Apeiron
by vicvic221
Summary: Cast out from Asgard, Loki is forced into exile on Midgard to atone for his sins in New York. With the assistance of a young mortal woman, he sets out to find a mysterious book that could change everything. Despite their best efforts, the pair soon find themselves battling for the lives as well as their hearts. (A revision of 'Fire and Rain,' see author's notes for more details.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **This story is based off of characters and situations created by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber, among various other writers, and Marvel Entertainment LLC, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company. There is no copyright infringement intended on my part, and I am not making any monetary gain from this story.

_See notes at the bottom of the page_

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Into this wild Abyss  
>The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave—<br>Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire,  
>But all these in their pregnant causes mixed<br>Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight,  
>Unless the Almighty Maker them ordain<br>His dark materials to create more worlds,—  
>Into this wild Abyss the wary Fiend<br>Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,  
>Pondering his voyage; for no narrow frith<br>He had to cross."  
>— <em>Paradise Lost<em>, John Milton

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><p>In the beginning, there was nothing.<p>

There was no sky, no earth, no trees or rivers, no plants or rocks. There was only Ginnungagap, a vast abyss of darkness, posed between the eternal fires of Muspelheim and the biting cold of Niflheim. In Ginnungagap there was perfect silence and for aeons it remained as such, until steadily, year after year passed and the flames of Muspelheim and frost of Niflheim crept towards one another.

It was in Ginnungagap that they met, and amidst the war of the fire and ice Ymir was born. Ymir was the first of the giants and, from drops of sweat not unlike the drops of melted frost from which he himself had been born, he fathered more of his kind. As fire melted ice and frost lashed at flames, the cow Audhumbla emerged from the void and it was she who licked the first of the Asgardians from the ice: Buri.

Buri sired a son called Borr, to whom the giantess Bestla was betrothed, and from their union the æsir sprang: Odinn, Vili, and Ve. As time passed, the three brothers grew to hate the giant Ymir and sought to overthrow him as ruler; together, the brothers slayed Ymir and then set to using his body to create the realms. They hung his body between the fire and ice and called it Midgard—Ymir's bones became its mountains, his hair sowed the roots of the first trees, and his blood filled the oceans. And then they took his skull and raised it to the sky to create the heavens above Earth, where the remaining embers became the sun, the moon, and the stars.

When the three brothers saw that what they had created was good, they created the first man and woman. To Ask and Embla, Odin gave a soul and life, Vili bestowed intellect and sensation, and Ve gave them their countenance, a voice, and the gift of sight and sound. They then left Midgard behind to create another realm that they might call their own; they called this home Asgard and its people were Asgardians.

At the edge of the sea and in the shadows of the mountains, they built a palace and around it they constructed the City of Asgard. In its very centre, the three brothers planted an ash tree and called it Yggdrasil; its roots supported the Nine Realms and it bestowed wisdom and longevity upon the people of the realm; it was at the base of the tree that Odin sacrificed himself for the knowledge to rule.

In the vastness that had once been Ginnungagap, there were now Nine worlds: Asgard, Midgard, Vanaheim, Jotunheim, Alfheim, Niflheim, Muspelheim, Svartalfheim, and Hel. Though they warred amongst themselves, they also formed alliances and created special bonds. And though Asgard called Vanaheim its sister, there was no greater bond than that between Asgard and Midgard, which were bound to each other with the Rainbow Bridge: the Bifrost.

The Midgardians did not forget the Asgardians either, and they were honoured in the legends of the Earth's Norsemen. For many years, Asgardians moved between the two realms, sharing songs and tales of the cosmos, which the mortals took and adapted into their own; eventually, however, the time of prosperity and free travel between the two realms was ended in war as Jotuns invaded Tønsberg, Norway on Midgard and incited the wrath of Odin.

Odin led the Asgardians into battle against the Frost Giants to protect the mortals and wounded their King, Laufey, in combat with his own hand. Upon wounding the King of Jotunheim and capturing the Casket of Ancient Winters, Odin stumbled upon a small child locked away in the stronghold of the Frost Giants. Moved with pity, the Asgardian took the child and raised it as his own kin.

And now, so many years later, here he was...

_Alone_.

Alone in a dark, dank, empty cell and chained to the wall like an animal on a leash. His powers were gone, stripped from him through powerful enchantments by Odin's own hand, and the resentment he had felt for his father previously only seemed to grow worse as his captivity dragged on. He longed for his chance to rage against the man that had imprisoned him like nothing more than a common criminal.

The chain around his left ankle clinked against the damp stone as he paced the length of the cell. He traced his fingertips along the cold stone of the walls as he walked the cell's length and then turned, pacing to the other side of the room, while his mind raced and he planned—for what must've been the hundredth time—his revenge. Surely they would free him. His idiot brother and the old man were too soft. They were _family_. There was no doubt in his mind that he would be freed on that alone.

He let out a frustrated growl, coming to a halt, and listened closely as the first, distinct sounds of footsteps echoed down the corridor. There was not just one set, but rather four, and he found himself holding his breath, a small smile ghosting on his lips.

_At last..._

He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to listen to the sound of the guards marching ahead of their charges, and allowed a low, mirthless chuckle to escape from his lips.

_Perfect._

He straightened at the sound of keys rattling in the cell door, his eyes opening at once, and when the einherjar pushed it open, he found himself facing Odin and Thor. They entered the room together, coming to a halt not more than a few feet from the doorway, but he made no move towards them and instead stood at attention, his hands clasped behind his back.

This ought to prove entertaining.

"Loki," Odin greeted after a pause. The old man's brow furrowed and he frowned deeply as he asked, "Why have you chosen this, my son?" Loki's muscles tensed and inwardly he balked at the way the King had addressed him. He was not Odin's son—it was nothing more than a lie. Odin spoke again, and this time his voice lacked any false sympathy, "Do you feel no shame for what you have done?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the question. "Should I?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows at the two royals. "I only sought to follow in the footsteps of those who came before me, yourselves included."

"You killed innocent people, brother," said Thor lowly.

"And you haven't?" Loki returned, scoffing again. "Do you forget so easily that you sought to bring war with Jotunheim to Asgard?"

"War that you yourself orchestrated!" Thor said, his voice rising.

He unclasped his hands and spread his palms to the other Prince, bowing his head in false submission. "It was only to prove that you are not fit for the throne, brother," Loki said mildly, glancing up at the oaf. "And prove it I did."

"What purpose could you have then on Midgard?" Thor demanded, ignoring the bait Loki had laid before him.

"I meant to rule them, as it is my birthright!"

"Your birthright was to die," Odin interjected.

Loki faltered, staring at the old man with a mixture of fury and surprise.

"You chose to endanger those that love you with your actions and to bring harm to the Midgardians."

"Have I wrought war upon Asgard?" he asked, having recovered slightly. "If that is the case, then do what you've come here for. I haven't any fear of the axe, and I dare say it would be an improvement—"

"You will be exiled to Midgard," Odin said.

"To Midgard?!" Loki echoed, his eyes widening in surprise. The old man _did_ have a sense of humour after all, or so it seemed. "Surely you can't be serious." Odin's face was hard, expressionless, and Loki's stomach dropped. "Be reasonable."

"These trespasses that you have committed are not to go unpunished," Odin replied evenly. "And so you shall be sent to Midgard, where you shall face the consequences of your actions."

"You welcomed him home!" bellowed Loki, gesturing at Thor angrily. "His transgressions are equal to my own and yet you set him upon a pedestal! You will never bring me back once you have cast me aside!"

The chains clinked as Loki shifted his weight, his chest heaving as he took several deep breaths and hoped—for a fleeting moment—that Thor might intervene on his behalf. Intervention never came and instead Odin took a step forward, his face serious.

"Loki, your brother paid for his actions just as you shall. He chose to incite war as you did and he learnt what it meant to be a true King. It was then that he was welcomed back to Asgard, and when you understand these things too, so shall you be."

"No," he shook his head. "No, please—"

Odin raised his staff, Gungnir, into the air and then slammed its end into the floor of the cell. Loki fell silent at the sound of energy crackling throug the air and swallowed hard. He hadn't wanted to think that this would truly be his fate, and yet...

"...You have disobeyed the laws of this kingdom and the command of your King..."

...He would be damned to that rotten plot of dirt for an eternity. He was certain of it...

"By way of your pride, and through your arrogance and search for power that was so motivated by envy, you have opened these Nine Realms and exposed countless innocents to the threat of war..."

He would find a way back.

The King of Asgard came forward while Gungnir remained standing in place behind him; it sent out volts of energy, creating a steadily growing portal of energy that would take him to Midgard.

"You are unworthy of this realm, undeserving of your title, and unworthy of the love of those you have endangered by way of your actions." He pulled away Loki's cloak and cast it aside, and the younger Prince watched as what remained of his leathers and armour disintegrated before his very eyes, leaving him in his tunic and trousers.

"In the name of my father.." Odin began, a bolt of lightning knocking Loki backwards and nearer to the still growing vortex, "...and his father before him..." Another bolt of lightning sent him further back, so that he was no close enough to feel the draw of the portal on his body, sucking him closer and ruffling his hair. The restraints that had bound his ankles vanished and Loki's eyes met Odin's as the latter exclaimed, "...I cast you out!"

A flash of light burst forth from Gungnir and caught Loki in the chest. It sent him toppling backwards, into the vortex, where he spun and twisted wildly, trying to gather his bearings as he hurtled towards Midgard and whatever Hell awaited him there.

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><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> This is an explanation of sorts, more than anything else. I mentioned in my last update to Counting Stars that I was going to be doing some revisions on this work to make it more compliant as a series and also to alter perspectives. I started my revision work almost immediately after and spent around a month reading (and cringing) my old work, doing research, and figuring out where I could cut the fat and make the story more comprehensive. The result, overall, is the same as Fire and Rain. Both stories begin and end in London. Both stories are about falling in love and how that can change you.

But, unlike Fire and Rain, there is quite a lot to Apeiron's middle that didn't exist in its predecessor. There are new characters (a lot of them, actually), some more important than others, new situations, and little hints and bits of foreshadowing to the second and—eventually—third stories in this series. I encourage you to keep up with this story as I update it or, if you're finding it after it's been finished (whenever that will be), I hope that you'll give it preference over its earlier version. This is, in a lot of ways, the story that I originally wanted to tell but was unable to. I'm proud of it (watch me say otherwise in 2017...) and I hope that you'll enjoy reading it.

Onto the question that I am sure is pressing on most everyone's minds—Counting Stars. Yes, I am going to update. No, I don't have an exact idea of when. To be honest with you, I haven't written a word of the next chapter and I lost my outline in November when my laptop crashed. So I'm revising it and changing it over to third person POV and once I've gotten that finished (which should be relatively soon), I'll start my work on the next chapter. Please be patient with me, I am maddeningly busy these days, but I want to get back into the swing of things just as much as you want me to, I promise.

And speaking of Counting Stars, there's a title change to come (like I said, I want something cohesive). Its new title will be _Eleutheria_. We can still call it Counting Stars in conversation, but officially, it's Eleutheria. If you're curious about the name changes and what they mean, here they are:

**Apeiron **- A Greek word meaning _infinite_, _unlimited, boundless_. In the 6th century BC, Greek philosopher Anaximander posited that from _apeiron_, everything had origin and would also see its destruction. It is a primal chaos.

**Eleutheria -** A Greek word meaning _freedom, liberty, _and especially _freedom from slavery_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **This story is based off of characters and situations created by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber, among various other writers, and Marvel Entertainment LLC, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company. There is no copyright infringement intended on my part, and I am not making any monetary gain from this story.

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: Absolutes and Certainty<strong>

In life there are no such things as absolutes; there are only the things you know, the things you believe, and the things you feel. Raleigh Alexander was no exception to this rule.

She _knew_ that two and two equalled four.

She _believed_ in God.

She _felt_ safe.

But what she neither knew nor felt, and certainly would not believe, was that she was on the precipice of something far greater than she could have ever, in her wildest dreams, imagined. It began on a single blustery October day, when rainclouds hung thick over London and there was a slight chill in the air that harkened the end of the summer months and the start of the autumn. In the end, she would wonder if it was for better or worse, but for now our story starts on a perfectly ordinary day as most stories of this nature do.

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><p>With her head bent over a spread of papers that stretched to the far corners of the table, Raleigh Alexander supposed she looked quite unassuming. Her dark brows were knit together in concentration while one of her ink stained hands combed her hair back from her face and over a narrow shoulder. Between her teeth she clenched a bright, neon yellow highlighter which she sometimes removed to mark a section of her text or a line of the essay she had been editing for the better half of the afternoon.<p>

Amid the sea of papers, several thick tomes of text that all detailed (in various shades of dull) the histories of Europe's many monarchies, their fall, and the subsequent rise of democracy and the EU, she was certain that she wasn't just unassuming, but also overwhelmed. And so she dropped her highlighter back into a pile of pens and other markers, then dug the knuckles of her index fingers into the corners of her eyes and tried her best to rub the aches away.

Something else Raleigh believed: law was boring.

With a sigh, she dropped her hands back to the tabletop and looked over the mess she'd made with a mild curiosity. On the bright side, she'd very nearly finished with the essay that had kept her up for half of the night; on the down side, she still had at least a hundred pages worth of reading to do. There went her Saturday afternoon….

"Thought you might need a pick me up."

Raleigh jolted at the sound of Jennifer Kerley's voice, and her eyes shot up to the face of the pretty blonde that had approached the table with a coffee in hand.

"Thanks," she said, before gesturing to the open seat across from herself. "Did you want to sit down?"

"Don't mind if I do," the other girl replied as she set down the coffee and then plunked herself down into the seat across from Raleigh. "How's the essay going?"

"Miserably," Raleigh answered. "I was up 'til three working on the bloody thing and you wouldn't believe all the shit I messed up…."

"Mm, like what?"

"I said that the King of Sweden signed the Magna Carta—Jenny, come on, that isn't funny! Don't laugh at me!"

"Isn't funny?" Jenny echoed, trying very hard to stifle her laughter behind her hand. "Sweden isn't even remotely close to England! Was Sweden even Sweden in the 1200s? How on earth did you mix the two up?!"

"I really don't know."

"Ah, it's just the American in you, I suppose," Jenny teased, propping her elbows up on the table as she leaned forward. "And before you get in a huff with me, I know full well that you know it was King John who signed the Magna Carta. Kate wouldn't've allowed you out in public if you didn't know that much."

Raleigh grinned. "Neither would my mother, and you know, Americans do learn a bit about your history with our own…" She began to pile her papers up, organising them as she went by the topic and the importance and the length. "...even those without British mothers."

"Need to keep in touch with the motherland, is that it?"

"Something like that."

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how tired do you suppose you'll be tonight?" Jenny asked, turning around one of the textbooks to read its title with some half-hearted interest.

"Not sure," said Raleigh, glancing up at her friend. "Why?"

"Well, there's a party a few people are going to in Camden tonight and I was wondering if you'd be up for coming along?"

"I have work tonight, you know. I couldn't say whether I'll be able to make it—"

"You have to come."

"I don't _have to_ do anything."

"I said you would go already!"

Raleigh's eyes widened. "To who?" she demanded sharply, glancing around to make sure that no one else could hear their conversation. "Who was so important that you had to tell them I was going? Was it Hannah Ayers?"

"No, it was actually Brian McNally," Jenny said with a victorious little smile.

"McNally?" Her interest piqued, Raleigh dropped the papers she'd been holding and leaned forward as well. "He's going?"

"Thought that might sweeten the deal." Jenny's tone turned mischievous as she added: "You know, Raleigh, he fancies you. I reckon if you went tonight that you could get him into bed."

Raleigh lifted her eyebrows, resisting the urge to laugh. "Oh really?" she asked and when Jenny had nodded, she carried on: "Do you remember the last time I went along with one of your _he-fancies-you_ schemes? Because I do, and it wasn't very nice!"

"You told Mags it was good!" Jenny retorted defensively.

"It was basically post-breakup sex," said Raleigh, recalling the night with a painful amount of perfect clarity. "I don't think I'd have been particularly choosy, and I wasn't, but he kept biting me."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Normally, but it hurt. Like, he took this much skin—" Raleigh held her thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart for emphasis. "—and bit. It was less like biting and more like pinching."

Jenny snorted. "Ah right, pinch play isn't your thing then is it?" Raleigh glared at her and she held up her hands in surrender. "All right, all right, well anyway, I'll have you know that Hannah Ayers says McNally is very good with his tongue."

"Hannah Ayers is a slag."

"So she would know best then, wouldn't she?"

Raleigh tried to work her expression into one of disapproval, but failed, and instead contented herself with listening as Jenny recounted exactly what it was that Hannah Ayers had told her earlier that morning.

They'd met at fifteen. Raleigh had recently moved to live with her mother and stepfather in Cambridgeshire, and was sent to an all-girls boarding school a few counties over. Once there, she'd found herself sharing a dormitory with three girls her age: Margaret MacDonald, Catherine Wood, and Jennifer Kerley; they'd become fast friends and bonded with one another over the next three years. While Margaret and Kate had gone north for university, the remaining two members of their group had entered university in London together—Jenny read for a degree in languages while Raleigh studied law.

By the time that Jenny had finished relating Brian McNally's prowess in the bedroom ("Hannah says it's great when you're on top."), his quirks ("He _always_ finishes first, Hannah said."), and his talent ("He's average, but Hannah told me that he really knows how to use it."), Raleigh was beginning to wonder if she even wanted to sleep with Brian McNally. All the fun and the mystery of the night had been taken away by Hannah Ayers, and Raleigh wasn't sure she wanted someone else's seconds.

When she voiced these concerns to Jenny, the blonde's eyes grew large and she immediately began to shake her head. "No, no, no!" she whispered furiously. "You _have_ to!"

"I have to sleep with him?"

"Yes!"

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Yes, well, it's been _ages_ since you got properly shagged."

"Thank-you for the reminder."

"The last time you had sex was last Christmas. Christmas! It's nearly been a year!" Jenny insisted. "And you did it with _him."_

"Don't sound so disappointed now, Jen."

"How can I not? You two broke up like a year and a half ago, but whenever you go back there, look what happens!" Her expression was a strange mix of fury and pity. "All I'm trying to say is, you need to move past him."

"I'm past him," said Raleigh quite firmly. "What about that bloke from Oxford? Would I have done that if I wasn't past him?"

"Kissing a stranger doesn't count if you're thinking about him while you do it," Jenny replied, still frowning. "What happened to being angry with him? Hating his guts as you ruddy well should?!"

"I never hated his guts, Jen."

"Regardless."

"I can still be friends with Jim, you know."

"You're not friends, you're practically friends with benefits. And it's probably a very one-sided relationship at that!" she argued. "Do you suppose _Jim_ isn't out getting laid? I bet you that he's gotten some in the last month at least."

"Why are you so interested in who Jim is sleeping with?" asked Raleigh, who had decided to needle the other girl for the sole pleasure of watching how a flush coloured her cheeks (but also to guarantee the end of the conversation). "Do _you_ want to sleep with him?"

Jenny scowled. "Don't be ridiculous. He's yours. I couldn't touch him even if I did like men in uniform."

"If he was mine, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"No, you know what I mean. He gets stationed in Germany and suddenly you're spending weekends over there, visiting him, going out on cute little German-themed dates, doing whatever it is that you two do for fun. And then, out of nowhere, you come back one Sunday night, walk into the dorm, and you've got the 'I just got fucked' look about you."

"Not seeing where he's _mine_ in any of this…"

"The man was over the moon for you, Raleigh!" Jenny said empathically. "Yes, he's a right prat, and I reckon he ought to have stayed in Germany like you told him to, but he was mad about you. And I'm willing to bet that since he was keen to sleep with you at Christmas, he still had a thing for you."

"That's not encouraging me to go down on Brian McNally, you know, even if he does 'manscape,' according to Hannah Ayers."

"Fine, he didn't fuck you in July when you went home to see your dad and Ben, did he?" Raleigh pursed her lips together and shook her head very slowly. "Exactly. So even though none of your friends could ever go after him, because we all know you two were madly in love and what not, I reckon he's moved on and so should you."

"With Brian McNally?"

"No, Brian McNally is a start. Prince Charming comes later."

"Ahhh." Raleigh nodded. "And when does Prince Charming arrive? Or is he charmingly, and chronically, late?"

"I couldn't say, but I reckon you'll know it when you meet him," said Jenny with a small sigh. She glanced at Raleigh's phone as it buzzed on the tabletop and, seeing the name of the sender, asked, "How's Ben?"

"He's fine. Busy asking me to help him write an essay on Steinbeck."

"How delightful. Didn't he just have a birthday?"

"Er, he turned fourteen in June."

"Blimey, and I wanted to buy him a bottle of rum for himself?" Jenny pulled a face. "Thought he was a bit older than that. Sorry, Raleigh." She was referring to Ben's recent visit, where he'd joined the girls for a night of drinking while Raleigh and Ben's mother and stepfather were out.

"He had plenty of fun with Kate and that wine she was smuggling him," replied Raleigh with a slight frown. "And I had a bit of leverage over him for a while." She swiped away her home screen, curiously reading the message that her younger brother had sent her. Nothing interesting waited for her, just a short message about their father and his day so far. "It's not like he never had alcohol before."

Jenny was quiet, picking up the coffee that Raleigh had ignored, and sipped it slowly as the brunette began to sort her papers once more. "You've got a lecture then, and then after that you've got work, right?" she eventually asked.

"That's right."

"And as it's Friday, you're open for an extra hour is it?"

"Extra two. We close at eight tonight."

"Right, well, if you get on at Goodge Street, you could take the Tube up to Camden and get off there."

"What is it? Four, five stops up?"

"Yeah," Jenny nodded after a moment of thought. "I'll text you the address, but Hannah said it was about a five minute walk from Camden Town."

"Did Hannah tell you about the dress code too?"

"Raleigh."

"Just checking," she said with a shrug. "Hannah certainly told you plenty today, so I thought I might ask."

"I don't think anyone will care about what you're wearing as long as you show up."

"You mean, _you_ care that I show up."

"And—"

"And so does Brian."

"Yes."

Raleigh sighed, setting down her stack of papers again and sucked on the inside of her cheek. "I'll give you a text when I'm on my way."

She wouldn't, but she didn't know that at the time. And so when Jenny smiled, Raleigh smiled back, and they went about the rest of their day in blissful ignorance to the outside world.

* * *

><p>As far as he was concerned, London deserved to be promptly and forcefully blown off the map.<p>

What a godforsaken, miserable hellhole it was.

Since he had first stepped foot into the city early that morning, it had done nothing but piss rain and the wind had been howling in angry bursts that had enough strength to knock him off his path. By the time the sun had set, Loki's tunic clung to his chest, his trousers were damp, and a chill had set into his bones that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to get rid of.

The weather was just the beginning of his complaints however. He loathed the narrow streets and walkways, the constant hum and glare of fluorescent lights was grating, and the fumes of the buses and cars were enough to make him choke. All around him, Midgardians were jostling and talking, absorbed in strange tablets, books, and their evening newspapers, and rushing towards the Underground stations that must've been interconnected to one another somehow. He'd tried to get into one earlier on, only to leave soon after discovering that the humans used small blue and white cards to open electronically operated gates.

It wasn't that he couldn't figure out a way around them, but rather that he hadn't the time or the patience to try. He was cold and tired and hungry, but he was drawing closer and closer to where he ought to be with every step he took and that he was sure of.

While he might've despised London with every fibre of his being, and wished nothing but ill on the mortals stupid enough to cross his path while scurrying to and from their Underground stations, he knew that a city of this magnitude was sure to contain something—or even _someone—_that could set him on the path back to Asgard. After all, if _Thor,_ the witless buffoon that he was, was able to find restitution in a town of eighty people, then surely Loki ought to be able to find it (or something like it) in a city of eight million.

He would, but he didn't realise it just then and so he smiled the sort of smile that a man with a secret worth dying for smiles, and contented himself with the thought of pulling the wool over the All Father's eyes.

* * *

><p>The evening seemed to drag on forever in Raleigh's mind.<p>

Shortly after arriving at the small bookshop that she spent the odd evening and weekend working at, she'd found herself subjected to sitting and waiting on customers that never did come. And so she'd spent most of her night thumbing through a new clothbound copy of _Emma_ and musing over the conversation that she'd earlier shared with Jenny in the library.

It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with Brian (though, the more she thought about it, she didn't), and it wasn't that she didn't appreciate Jenny talking her up and trying to give her a leg up over any competition (she did). No, the simple fact was that she had tried to go about sleeping around like Jenny did and it just hadn't worked out in her favour.

She kept cycling back to when she and the other girls had gone to the beach during their school holidays a year ago and she met her one night stand. Ciaran, she thought his name had been. He and his friends had been very friendly when they'd approached the girls at the pub that night, and he was good looking with tousled light brown hair, blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the warm lights of the pub, and the cutest dimples that she'd ever seen. His smile was crooked and seemed to imply that he was up to something, and he'd smelled like sea spray. Really, she should've thought herself lucky when Jenny suggested that they all go back to the cottage the girls were staying in and she'd ended up in bed with the man. And she had, at least until he'd started pinching her neck with his teeth.

The next morning, he'd been charming and chatted at breakfast about his family farm, local sights, and the sunny weather, then he'd gone off with his mates and left Raleigh alone with hers. It was only in the privacy of her bedroom with Mags several days later that she'd made a teary confession that she'd thought of Jim the entire time and that it wasn't nearly as good as she'd let on when the girls were alone again.

Of course, Mags had been completely understanding. Mags was _always_ understanding. She'd never breathed a word about the conversation—as far as Raleigh knew anyway—to Kate, and certainly nothing to Jenny. If Kate knew that Raleigh had been thinking about her ex-boyfriend while she was under another man, she never let on (a very un-Kate thing to do), and Jenny was still under the impression that the sex had been stellar (it wasn't).

_"__You know," Mags had said when Raleigh finally finished her lament and stifled a sob behind her hand, "it's all right if you don't sleep around."_

_"__What?" Raleigh had asked, caught off guard by the sentiment._

_"__Not everyone is made to have casual sex," Mags said as she eased herself down onto the bed beside her friend. "Jenny could do three guys in a night and not care, you and I both know that, but when have you ever seen Kate do that?"_

_"__Kate doesn't like boys."_

_"__So? Have you seen her sleep with some random girl in that case?"_

_"__No…."_

_"__Exactly," Mags told her and she'd wrapped her arms around Raleigh, pulling her close for a hug. "Kate's waiting for the right girl, Jenny will screw anything that has muscles and a London accent, and you, well, maybe you ought to wait for the right boy. One you're really certain of, you know?"_

_Raleigh had laughed and wrapped her arms around Margaret's middle. "And you're the picture perfect example of monogamy, I guess," she'd said after a moment, referring to Mags and her boyfriend Collin._

_The black girl grinned. "Unfortunately for you, Collins don't fall out of the sky."_

Raleigh sighed and, closing her copy of _Emma,_ reached for her phone that had been incessantly buzzing all night with texts from Jenny. Ignoring her unread messages, she scrolled through her chat history to find Margaret's name; she needed a second opinion and hoped that Mags would get the message before she went out to do whatever it was she'd most likely planned.

For a few minutes, Raleigh sat working on the message and trying to explain the whole situation as succinctly as possibly: Jenny's excitement, Hannah Ayers taking the mystery out of Brian McNally, her feelings, and even Brian McNally himself.

As Raleigh backtracked and edited the message for what must've been the tenth time, the bells above the front door jingled, signalling the arrival of a customer cutting it close.

Her eyes flickered to the time at the top of her phone's screen: 19:48.

A customer cutting it _very_ close.

Mags would have to wait then.

Raleigh set her phone down, watching the man who had entered the shop as he came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the floor, glancing around at the shelves and piles of books. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and she looked him over curiously.

He looked like he'd stumbled in from some kind of convention or a Renaissance fair in his outfit: a flimsy tunic with leather stitching near the throat, cotton trousers, and a pair of thin shoes. He was tall. He had long, jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders in a tousled, damp mess and was shockingly pale. But he was handsome, with angular, defined features, a thin nose, and brilliant green eyes, and when he walked he moved with confidence and an easy, light-footed grace.

"Can I help you?" Raleigh asked, rising to her feet to come out from behind the counter as the man took a few more steps into the store, still looking around at the shelves with keen interest.

"I'm looking for a book," the man said, facing her. His tone was cool, but held an air of condescension to it.

"Well, you've come to the right place," said Raleigh with a slight frown. She hated rude customers. "We carry all sorts here."

The man cocked his head to the side at the contrariness of her answer, like it had annoyed him, and Raleigh resisted the urge to go back behind the counter to hide. There was something about him that was imposing…maybe it was the ridiculous get up?

"Do you not realise who it is that you speak to?"

"I'm afraid not," she replied, her voice steady. The thing was, he looked familiar. Where had she seen him before? In a film? A cologne ad? Something else? "Anyway," she continued on before the man could speak, "we're closing in ten minutes so what is it that you're looking for exactly? I might be able to help. We've got plenty of new and used stock, including out of print works, contemporary and classic authors…are you a Shakespeare sort of guy? You look like a Shakespeare sort of guy…" And she started towards the row that held the shop's collection of Shakespeare, wracking her brain for who this man might be and how she knew him.

"I require a book of Old Norse spells," said the man, bringing her to an abrupt halt. When she'd turned to face him, he put on a false air of politeness and asked snidely, "Would you happen to carry such an item in your fine establishment, and if you do not, might you know how to acquire such a text?"

Raleigh folded her arms across her chest, beginning to grow uncomfortable. "We have a book of Norse myths, if that's what you're asking," she said. His eyes narrowed and she shifted her weight from one foot to another under the hard gaze. "We aren't exactly purveyors of the darks arts here, Professor Snape. You'd be better off a few doors down at the Leaky Cauldron."

As soon as the words were out, she wanted to kick herself. Why, oh why did she have to needle at the strange man without thinking?!

"If I were you," he said, his voice clinical, "I would watch my tongue, mortal."

_Mortal?_

Oh, _this_ was going to be good.

"If I'm a mortal then what does that make you exactly?" she questioned, lifting her eyebrows and thinking to herself that she sounded much braver than she felt.

"To one such as yourself, I am a god."

And suddenly it wasn't funny anymore. Raleigh could get along with drunks, the occasional druggie, and most people in general really, but the one sort of person she'd always made a point to avoid and not to antagonise was the crazy kind. And it seemed that this customer was a whole bag of it if he genuinely believed he was a god among men…

"Is that right?" Raleigh asked and, keeping her eyes trained on him, she began to inch her way back over to the counter. He watched her as she watched him, the corners of his mouth curling into a devilish smirk, and she swallowed hard. "What do they call you then?"

"They call me a great many things," he answered her, and he took a step forward as Raleigh bumped up against the counter. He continued on as he drew closer to her: "Silvertongue, trickster, thief…" Each step was silent and Raleigh reached out, her hand wrapping around her phone. "…God of Lies, God of Mischief…" He stopped, and for the first time he smiled, revealing a set of well cared for teeth. "But mostly, little one, they call me Loki, Prince of Asgard."

The blood in Raleigh's veins turned to ice as he finished speaking, and her eyes widened in horrified shock as memories of the attacks on New York—not even six months before—filled her mind. She'd sat glued to her phone and computer, hoping and praying for some kind of resolution and a confirmation that her friends and family were safe from the destruction that rocked Midtown. The man behind it all had been the same one that attacked a charity ball in Stuttgart. Not even three days later, he'd led an army of humanoid creatures against a group of superheroes in New York, very nearly resulting in the total annihilation of the city and perhaps even the entire East Coast had it not been for the Avengers. He had called himself Loki, too.

"Ahh," the man said, his smile widening at the sight of her horror. "It seems my reputation precedes me."

"Get out." The words came tumbling out and though her voice shook, Raleigh held firm and met his stare.

His eyebrows rose. "Excuse me?" he asked disbelievingly. "Get out?"

"That's what I said," said Raleigh as she clutched her phone tight in her hands. "Get out of here. You're not welcome here."

"Are you so bold as to believe that you can challenge me?"

"No," Raleigh told him truthfully and then, before she could talk herself out of it, she held up her phone, swiped into her camera app, and snapped a photo of him. "But I'm willing to bet that if you're who you say you are, there are plenty of people out there who want your head on a plate. So let's make a deal, Silvertongue."

He scowled. "A deal?" he echoed.

"Yeah, you leave and I don't tell anyone about this. You kill me or worse, and everyone will find out that you're back and causing trouble because of this photo—" She held her phone up for him to see the snapshot. "—I think that's fair, don't you?"

"I could always snap your neck before you press send," he said, taking another, more menacing, step forward. "Had you not considered that?"

"It's on the Cloud. They'll find it!" Raleigh said taking several hurried steps away from him until her back collided with a wall of books. "I don't have to send it to anyone for them to find it."

For the first time since his arrival, Loki looked genuinely confused but it was fleeting and he said, "Then I suppose I'll destroy your phone when I'm finished with you."

"That's not how the Cloud works."

He stopped, having come within a foot of where she was pinned to the wall in fear. "No?"

"No." Raleigh shook her head. "And by the time you figure out how to get rid of it, it'll be too late. They'll have found me and taken the rest of my stuff. You'll never get to the photo." She was mostly bluffing, for she had no clue if the police would confiscate her laptop and go through her photos, but he didn't need to know that.

"And you believe making a deal with the devil is your most sensible alternative?"

"Yes, if it keeps me alive then I reckon it's very sensible as far as alternatives go." She swallowed hard. "So do we have a deal?"

Loki was silent, his eyes narrowing and his face clouding over, and after several tense seconds he stepped back from Raleigh, who released the breath that she had been holding. He smirked at her. "It seems that we have a deal then, little one."

"G-good." Raleigh cleared her throat, then tried again as he headed for the door: "I mean, good. And you shouldn't come back here either."

He paused at the door, turning his head just enough so that he could see her over his shoulder. "No?" he asked and she quickly shook her head. "No matter then," he said as he grasped the door's handle, "I'm sure that we shall see each other again soon anyway, Raleigh."

Her stomach lurched_—how does he know my name?_

But before she could ask or make another feeble threat, he was out the door and off into the cold October night.

As soon as she had gathered her wits about her, Raleigh raced across the shop, latched the door, and tugged the blinds down to cover the shopfront's windows. When the shop was sufficiently blocked off from the outside world, she sank to the knees in the centre of the floor and wrapped her arms around herself as a sob rose in her throat.

It couldn't have been. It couldn't have been him. Not really. It had to be a lie.

Hadn't they said they'd caught him?

He was a madman that was all. One of those assholes who ran around worshipping mass murderers. It happened all the time, didn't it? Why shouldn't this be any different?

_But he knew my name._

Her stomach turned over again and the sob that had been threatening to escape her lips broke free.

How had he known her name? She'd never said. She'd never introduced herself. She didn't wear a name tag. How could he have known?

Was he stalking her? Was that why she thought she recognised him?

Suddenly, she laughed in spite of herself—she was hoping to have a stalker rather than to have run into a murderous psychopath. It was outrageous.

All of it was really.

She was freaking out and acting like that man had actually been the real Loki when everyone on Earth knew that he'd been defeated and captured by the Avengers. And there was no way that they would have allowed him free, or that the press wouldn't have caught wind of some kind of massive federal prison jailbreak.

Her breathing grew steadier.

He wasn't real. He was some twat. Just some crazy twat who had a macabre obsession.

She swallowed and sat back on her heels.

_But he knew my name._

* * *

><p>As he settled himself into the shadows, his eyes still fixed on the front door of the bookshop, Loki began to smile again. What a foolish, impertinent child the girl was. He almost felt sorry for the poor thing: she had no idea of just what her life was about to become. She would be instrumental in his return to Asgard, in creating the illusion that he walked the road to redemption, in extracting his revenge on Odin…she just didn't know it yet.<p>

He thought she was rather stupid, for a sensible man or woman wouldn't have bartered as she tried to do. No, she'd shown some courage, shown him that she possessed the same ferocity as that of a scared kitten, and that it led her to be stupid.

He found her rather unsightly, though what that mattered he knew not. As Midgardians went, he supposed she might be called pretty with her long and wavy brown hair, hazel eyes, and slim frame, but she wasn't much to look as in his mind and her voice annoyed him. Asgardian women were far more beautiful, but then they always had been.

He rolled her name around in his mouth a few more times, whispering it under his breath as if to try it out. What a peculiar and unfortunate name for such a plain and stupid girl.

These were the things that Loki Laufeyson felt, believed, and knew on that October day, and it was these things that he was certain of.

What he did not know was that he would come to find her pretty, or that he would be impressed by her bravery and strength, or that in the end, he would be willing to make a sacrifice for her.

He didn't know that he would fall in love with her.

This story might end quite differently if he had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This story is based off of characters and situations created by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber, among various other writers, and Marvel Entertainment LLC, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company. There is no copyright infringement intended on my part, and I am not making any monetary gain from this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three: Strangers in the Night<strong>

She never did sleep with Brian McNally that night.

By the time Raleigh had collected herself and was confident that it was safe to venture out of the shop (though, she made sure to exit through the back into the alley that butted up to the shop's rear, anyway), her stomach was rumbling loudly and so she wandered through the back streets until she found herself in Covent Garden. She tried to stay casual, to be inconspicuous (in retrospect, she'd think she was being ridiculous), but whenever she stopped at a corner to allow traffic to pass, she'd find herself glancing over her shoulder warily. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched and that scared her more than anything.

It was one thing to have evaded a crazy man by some divine luck, but what if he was still out there? What if it wasn't really luck? What if he was watching her as she stood on the corner of Oxford Street and waited for the light to change?

Eventually, and without incident, Raleigh ducked into an Indian restaurant and seated herself at a small table in one of the corners. She sat with her back to the front window, reciting her makeshift mantra under her breath as she deliberated over biryani or curry: _There's nothing to be afraid of. I'm being paranoid over nothing._

Except she wasn't, but she didn't know that then. And on another day, a very long time after that particularly chilly October night, she'd wish that she'd heeded her instincts.

She ordered her meal, texted Jenny, and read the novel she'd been trying to finish for the last month, _The Count of Monte Cristo_. She never noticed the old woman two tables over, hunched over her own meal but watching her with greedy, curious eyes. For a little while longer, Raleigh's life was normal and she had a reprieve from her worries. The most pressing thing on her mind for the entirety of her dinner was trying to remember who every character was without referring to the cheat sheet she'd made for herself on her phone (she looked—twice).

Finishing her curry and rice and ignoring several very flustered text from Jenny, Raleigh paid for her meal and left. After exiting the restaurant, she moved towards one of the dark alleys that was out of the way of the nighttime crowds, and from her jacket's pocket she pulled a pack of cigarettes. After glancing around self-consciously, Raleigh flipped the green and white box's lid open and lifted one of the cigarettes from the pack to place the filtered end between her lips. Tucking her pack back into her pocket, she groped around the depths of her bag for a moment before she found her lighter and withdrew it.

Her fingers were nimble on the flint wheel and she bowed her head towards the flame as it burst from the lighter's tip; she breathed deeply as the end of her cigarette glowed orange and then drew back, relaxing her thumb's pressure on the lighter. Relief washed over Raleigh as the familiar taste of smoke and menthol filled her mouth and she exhaled it casually.

This was better.

She took another drag off the cigarette and leaned back against the wall of the building, watching the passerby with mild interest.

Raleigh had had her first cigarette just after her fifteenth birthday. Jenny had been smoking for a year already, and when they'd met at boarding school, it'd seemed like the natural thing to do. She'd been desperate to make a friend and there was Jenny, who she had three classes with, offering her a smoke—and so she took it. Just one, she'd reasoned with herself at the time. She didn't have to do it again after that first conversation in private. Smoking on school grounds was against the rules anyway, and the last thing Raleigh wanted was to be found with a cigarette in her mouth behind one of the old buildings. But that first conversation and first cigarette had turned into a second conversation and a second cigarette, and then a third, and soon a fourth. It became harder to say 'no' and easier to say 'yes,' and the rest was history.

She'd tried to quit (multiple times, in fact), but the trouble was that she was very good at hiding the habit, which left her of the mind that there was really no need. She didn't smell bad, she didn't taste bad when she kissed someone, and she was in good health. No one would've been able to guess that she smoked under stress or that when she'd had one too many beers, she craved for the taste of menthol and nicotine. No one would've guessed that she stashed cartons of Marlboros from duty-free shops beneath her bed or that Jenny had bought her an antique Zippo lighter for her eighteenth birthday as a gift. But it was all true. Just like it was true that she'd spent hours scouring the Internet, learning how to hide the habit from family and friends, and how to mask it from Jim after he hinted that he didn't like the taste.

Raleigh flicked a stray ash from the end of her cigarette, then returned it to her lips, puffing hard as she skimmed over her unread text messages.

Where are you?

When are you coming?

Will you be here soon?

Come here ASAP.

Are you ignoring me?

THIS IS REALLY IMPORTANT. COME ON.

Raleigh rolled her eyes.

If there was anyone who could make cheap liquor and shitty house music sound melodramatic, it was Jenny.

Breathing in another mouthful of smoke as the end of her cigarette smouldered, Raleigh composed a quick reply to Jenny's messages, which read:

I'm alive. Got hungry. Chill your beans. Be there soon.

She sent it, then pocketed her cell phone and pulled her nearly finished cigarette away from her lips. She exhaled sharply, watching as the cigarette smoke swirled before her eyes and then drifted away, the silver wisps dissipating in the night. For a moment, she debated walking back up the Northern line towards Tottenham Court Road and Goodge Street, or if she ought to go to Leicester Square for the Tube instead. It was closer and it was cold out, so Leicester Square had that working in its favour, but if she headed north on foot, that would guarantee her time for another cigarette and a little longer to avoid Jenny's questions….

"Hmm," she murmured, taking the last puffs the cigarette had to offer before discarding the butt underfoot. Raleigh shoved her hands deep into her pockets, mulling the choice over carefully, but as a particularly strong gust of wind whipped down the street, the choice was made for her: Leicester Square. She stepped out from the alleyway entrance, colliding with the little old woman she'd noticed two tables over as she left the restaurant.

"Christ!" Raleigh swore, jumping back in alarm before she flushed deeply. "Sorry!" she rushed on. "I'm sorry! So sorry! I didn't see you—I wasn't looking—I'm really sorry!" She pulled a hand from her pocket to cover her heart as it fluttered in her chest, and then asked concernedly, "Are you all right?"

Cold grey eyes locked onto hers, returning Raleigh's apology with silence.

"I'm sorry," the girl offered again, more meekly now. "I didn't mean to…" But she trailed off, unsure of what else she could say. She hadn't knocked the old woman over or hurt her by the look of things, and she'd apologised, so what else was there to say or do?

After few more awkward moments, Raleigh began to feel uneasy. Her gut urged her to leave and so, apologising for a final time, the girl stepped around the old woman and hurried down the street towards Charing Cross Road. Head bent to the cold, Raleigh weaved between other pedestrians and looped around crowds, occasionally ducking around packs of people and into the street where it was possible. She wasn't sure why she was going so fast. It wasn't the old woman—that would be silly. Maybe it was the lingering feeling of being watched…

She sighed.

_I'm being stupid._

Clearing her head for what must've been the millionth time, Raleigh approached the corner where St. Martin's met Cranbourn; her phone vibrated against her palm as she neared the group of pedestrians waiting for the light to change and she quickly pulled it out.

Jenny.

If you don't get here soon, Hannah's—

The rest of the text was lost on Raleigh as a horn blared loudly in her left ear. Startled, she tried to react, but someone from behind had already seized her by the arm and was pulling hard, yanking her back to the safety of the pavement while a black cab went whizzing past, its driver giving the girl a scathing look.

Wide-eyed and shaking, Raleigh stared at the spot in the road where she'd stepped off and nearly been hit… Her cheeks burned and she sheepishly hung her head, not wanting to see the judgmental looks of the others waiting beside her.

The grip on her arm relaxed and a man with a thick Welsh accent asked, "All right there?"

Raleigh turned to look up at her saviour and found herself staring at a tall, round-faced man with a thick neck, ruddy cheeks, and a pair of beady, dark eyes that glinted in the glare of the streetlights and florescent signs. It was a friendly face, but there was something about him…

"Y-yeah," she finally said, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks…."

"Ought to be paying more attention, don't you think?" he continued on lightly, gesturing towards the street first and then her phone, which she hadn't even realised she'd been holding close to her breast, her grip vice-like. "Rather than playing with that like you were?"

"What? Oh, I…" Raleigh shook her head and then pulled her arm from his grasp, not liking the way that he had held on. "It was stupid, yeah. Thanks again for pulling me back."

"Well, no one else was going to do it," the man replied and he smiled at her, which only made his tiny eyes crinkle at the corners and shrink. They reminded Raleigh of a snake. "I'm Luke."

"Pleasure," she said, avoiding his hand as he held it out for her to shake. Her eyes darted towards the opposite side of the intersection, hoping that the light might've changed for pedestrians to cross, but unfortunately it seemed she'd missed her chance in talking to Luke. "I'm actually in a bit of a rush, Luke," she continued, stepping to the side so as to move around his hulking figure, "so if you don't mind…."

"Don't suppose I could trouble you for a drink before you go?" he asked, stepping directly into her path.

"Erm, no, sorry, I'm really pressed for time," said Raleigh and this time she moved more quickly, darting around him and heading for the other intersection to make it to the opposite side of the street.

"Well maybe some other time then?" He was following her. Fuck it all. This night just couldn't get any worse could it? "I'm only just arrived to London, you see, and I don't know many people…"

"That's a shame," Raleigh told him, not meaning it in the least. They reached the other side of the road together, just as the opposite corner's light changed and again the pair hurried across the intersection. "There's a few clubs just up ahead, you know, I'm sure you could meet a couple people there. If not, there's always the pub."

"Where?" he asked, baffled. He pointed ahead. "Is that just up here?"

"Yeah, and if you go up through Chinatown, you'll be in Soho. Plenty to do there."

"I'm really sorry, but do you think you could show me?" he raised his eyebrows at her, helpless. "My mates were supposed to meet me at the Tube to get a pint, but they never showed, and like I said—"

"You're new in town, yeah, I got that," said Raleigh, who was continuing to grow more and more unnerved as the conversation went on. She couldn't figure out why he creeped her out, but there was something about him that was setting alarm bells off in her brain. "Look, just go find one of those kiosks like that one over there," she said, gesturing to a large kiosk that had been erected on the corner. "They've got maps on there and they can tell you where to go. I've really got to go now, Luke."

He stopped. "You sure you can't stay for one pint?"

"I'm…I'm going to see my friend whose just had surgery," she lied. "So no, I'm sorry, I'm afraid not."

"Well, could I call you then?"

"Er, all right, give me your number," she said, hoping to diffuse the situation.

"I haven't gotten my mobile set up yet," said Luke. "Just give me yours, it'll be no trouble."

"Look, Luke, no offence, but I'm really not keen on giving my number out to complete strangers," Raleigh said, her patience dwindling rapidly.

A strange expression passed over his face and for a moment Raleigh thought her eyes were deceiving her—for the man's features darkened and his eyes narrowed—but then he was smiling again, like nothing had happened. "That's all right. Clever of you, really," he said. "Too many crazy blokes out there, right?" He laughed and Raleigh joined in nervously, keeping her eyes trained on his face. "Why don't we meet up then? There's a pub up the road that way, isn't there?"

She nodded, glancing back at the way they'd come. "Yeah, yeah, there is. It's the, um…."

"The Horseman, I think?"

"Yeah, that's it," she agreed, though she would've agreed with any name at this point.

"Well, how about this time next week?"

"Sounds perfect." So perfect, in fact, that she would make a point to be anywhere but near Leicester Square at this time next week.

"Great!" Luke enthused, smiling broadly. "I'll see you then?" Raleigh nodded and then bid him a hurried farewell. However she'd only gone a few feet from him when he called her back, asking, "Sorry, erm…I actually didn't get your name?"

"Oh!" cried Raleigh. "No, I'm sorry! It's Emily." She smiled. "I'm Emily Vanderwell."

The same dark expression flashed across his face and Raleigh's heart stilled in her chest, but then Luke was grinning and saying, "Pretty name."

"Thanks."

She inclined her head to him and then turned on her heel, ducking into a large crowd that was heading in the same direction that she was. She broke away from the group at the Leicester Square Tube station's entrance, turning into the doorway and fighting her way down the stairs and towards the station's upper level. The station was heaving with people at this time on a Friday night and so Raleigh had to squeeze and dart her way between different groups until she'd reached the main floor.

She headed towards the throng of people that were gradually inching in the direction of the gates, fishing her Oyster card out of her wallet as she went. As she joined one of the lines, moving at a crawl behind a young couple, something seemed to press on her mind, imploring her to look back over her shoulder in the direction that she'd come from, and so she did, her breath leaving her as she did. For the briefest of seconds her eyes focused on a tall, lithe figure that was leaning against the wall beside the top-up machines, and she started with a cry of surprise.

It was him!

She almost tripped and fell as she stumbled with fright and bumped into a haggard looking businesswoman that had been standing behind her. Raleigh jumped, whipping around and tearing her gaze from where he—Loki—had been standing to face the woman.

"Sorry!" she said automatically, and then the urge to say, _Quick, run!_ rose in her mind, but the woman seemed completely unfazed, as if she hadn't even noticed Raleigh's yelp or what she was looking at…. In fact, no one had. Still trembling with fright, the young woman whipped her head around, trying to see if anyone else had noticed what she had, but all around her there was calm. It was still an ordinary Friday night and there were drinks to be had, stories to be shared, and laughter everywhere. No one else was afraid. Just her.

Nervously, she glanced over her shoulder again—towards the top-up machines—and then exhaled sharply when all she saw was a TFL worker helping a group of Asian tourists that were trying to buy passes.

_Beep._

The gate swung open for the couple that had been ahead of Raleigh, prompting the girl to turn and swipe her Oyster against the yellow card reader so that she could pass through the barriers, too.

"I'm being silly," she whispered to herself as her card was accepted and the gates swung open. Taking a deep breath, she crossed through the turnstiles and then headed towards the escalators. "It was nothing. There was nothing there." She fell silent as she fell into step behind a bald man in a plaid checked shirt and followed him down the escalator's stairs towards the Northern line platforms below.

Still, no matter how many times she told herself that he really was gone and that he wasn't coming back, Raleigh found herself glancing over her shoulder as she approached the bottom of the escalators and was relieved when she saw nothing and no one suspicious following her.

Loki, or whatever his name actually was, was gone and he wasn't going to come back.

* * *

><p>Loki leaned up against the rear door of the train carriage, watching with quiet amusement as Raleigh stared out of the window at the tunnel wall as it rushed past, her face reflected in the glass. She couldn't see him, nor could any of the other mortals inside the train car, and he made use of the anonymity by hovering close to the girl and peering over her shoulder with interest whenever she would reach into her bag and rummage around for a book or her phone. She was a nervous little thing, who had spent the majority of the journey so far fidgeting and shifting her weight from one foot to another. Perhaps showing himself in the station like he had had been a bit much, but then….<p>

Raleigh exhaled sharply beside him and, like clockwork, reached into her bag to pull out her mobile again. She was checking it, no doubt rereading the message from another girl, Jenny, for the dozenth time, and considering a reply. He watched as her fingers glided across the screen nimbly—he'd already learnt her password (0107) and he wondered what other information he would be able to find on her phone once he had his hands on it. He might've already taken it from her by force, but the truth was that she was proving to be easy prey. She was fun to torment and easily riled, which delighted him to no end. It was a silver lining for Loki, who had been dreading the company of a mortal until now; of course, he still wasn't thrilled with her—she was petulant and stupid, after all—but the idea of frightening the girl more was enough to lift his spirits.

"The next station is Warren Street, this is a Northern line train to Edgware."

Raleigh shifted beside him at the sound of the announcement and then stepped closer to the middle of the carriage, nearer to where he stood, and he wrinkled his nose as he caught a whiff of lavender in the air.

At least she washed.

Loki took a small step back, distancing himself from her, and then folded his arms across his chest. How much longer would it be? He was tired and cold, and hungry and thirsty again. If it weren't for Raleigh, he'd have simply gone off to find a place to sleep by now. It wasn't particularly difficult to con services out of mortals or to get mortal money, after all, but he was worried about losing the girl. Time was of the essence and he couldn't simply sit by idly, waiting for her to return to the damned bookshop in Bloomsbury.

The train began to slow and Loki watched as a platform glided into view. When they'd come to a halt, the doors dinged and slid open, the cool, computerised voice announcing, "This is Warren Street."

One or two people disembarked while Raleigh pressed herself nearer to where Loki was standing, hidden, to make room for the handful of people entering through the door she'd been standing beside. They were talking amongst themselves and moved down inside of the carriage, laughing and gossiping loudly, and paid no mind to Loki even as one of the girls stepped down on his foot. He flinched and uttered a low curse as the sharp heel made contact with his toe, but then she was gone, trailing after her friends.

He inhaled sharply, looking down at his feet, and he could see what looked like blood staining the toe of his shoe.

Scowling, he lifted his gaze towards the woman in question and gave a little wave of his hand, concentrating on the thin stiletto heel, which he used his magic to make flimsy and loosen. It would hold for a little while longer, perhaps until she was stumbling about drunk and unaware, and then it would give and —he hoped—she would break an ankle.

The doors beeped several times in rapid succession and then slid shut; after another moment, the train lurched forward and they were off, with Raleigh leaning back against the carriage's rear wall. She was glued to her phone again, her eyes scanning the screen rapidly and her fingers hesitating above the keyboard. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the child. This was the girl who was supposed to help him find the Book of Ullr?

Well, he would at least give her a bit of credit for being inconspicuous—when she wasn't falling into traffic or jumping out of her skin and crashing into strangers, that was. Of course, all of those things had been his fault, but he wasn't about to take that into account. It was much more enjoyable to simply look at her and criticise to his heart's content.

He couldn't deny, however, that she was at least clever enough to refuse a strange man on the street. He'd been hoping she'd take the bait, that after he'd so carefully orchestrated the entire thing—the cab speeding up, the obliviousness of those bystanders on the corner to her plight, all of it really—she would have felt grateful and obligated to have at least one drink. Yet she hadn't. She'd refused. Was it the shape he'd chosen? He hadn't liked it anymore than she had, but the least she could've done was buy him a bloody beer. He deserved it after the day he'd had and with the prospect of continuing to stalk her from the shadows, he positively needed it.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he had his magic, but his powers had been restricted by the All Father severely, relegating him to using the most basic of spells and incantations. Invisibility was child's play, but continuing to change his shape as he had been? He couldn't do it. It brought him physical pain, left him wheezing and gritting his teeth to keep from crying out.

He imagined that the All Father must be laughing at his plight. He couldn't cast complex incantations without feeling a stab of discomfort before the magic fizzled and died on his fingertips. If he could, he'd have placed Raleigh under a spell by now to do his bidding, but here he was, practising the methods that Frigga had taught him as a boy—exerting all of his willpower to make himself invisible to those in the immediate area. He'd learnt how to do it after he'd been caught spying and eavesdropping one too many times on important meetings between Odin and his advisors. The threat of a beating had been nothing after the first few times, and Frigga had known it, so she'd taught him how to hide without really using magic. The All Father couldn't detect him that way, not unless he did something wrong or brought attention to himself in some way.

Yet invisibility was only so useful in this realm. He couldn't keep hiding like this forever. It was, though he was loathe to admit it, tiring after a while. By Odin, did he wish that he could just drag the girl off to a dark corner and talk some sense to her. Though he didn't expect that she would take kindly to his appearance, especially after her little show in the train station.

He eyed her warily, resisting the urge to roll his eyes as she fidgeted and dug around in her pockets. And she smoked... He could smell it on her. It made him gag. What an absolutely disgusting habit. There was nothing nice about cigarette smoke. There was no hidden perfume under the stench of tar and nicotine. It was vile. She was vile.

Why couldn't it have been someone cleverer? A scientist? Thor had gotten a scientist of some sort, hadn't he?

He sighed in exasperation, watching as Raleigh began to fiddle with her phone again. Her fingers were finally moving over the keys, typing out a message, and Loki found himself leaning towards her—and holding his breath—to see what it was that she was writing.

His gaze flitted towards the grey speech bubble that he'd already read several times over:

If you don't get here soon, Hannah's going to sleep with Brian.  
>IDK. she said that she wasn't into him, but evidently she is or else she wouldn't<br>be all over him right now. I'm so, so sorry. I'll try to keep her away til  
>you come, but you've got to hurry up and get here fast.<p>

Midgardian girls really were vapid creatures, Loki decided as he finished rereading the message. It was always about handsome men with them, wasn't it? A man could be anything or anyone, and so long as he was handsome, there was sure to be a girl stupid enough to fall for him and to give him exactly what he needed.

Raleigh, meanwhile, was midway through her reply to Jenny:

Just got into Camden. Don't be sorry. It's not your fault.  
>Only going to stay for a little while as I'm tired. One or two drinks<br>and I'll go. I'll see you in about five minutes. :)

She finished typing, but didn't send the message; instead she exited the window by pressing a button near the base of the phone and then swiped between the screens, pulling up an album of photos after tapping a particular tile. Loki watched, now genuinely curious, as she selected a thumbnail of the photo she'd captured of him earlier. The blurry, but still recognisable photo filled her screen and she stared at it for several long seconds, then tapped a small bin shaped icon at the bottom of her screen.

_Are you sure you want to delete this?_

Raleigh's thumb pressed _Delete Photo_ and the image vanished. She then did the same thing in another album called Photostream, her jaw set a little too tight for what he thought was supposed to be a casual choice.

He scared her then. Good. Perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult to persuade her after all…

"The next station is Camden Town." Raleigh looked up from her phone in surprise, craning her neck to check the automated ticker above the rear door of the compartment, then she stuffed her phone into her pocket and edged her way over to the small side door. Gripping the bar that ran alongside the door for support, the girl stared out the window at the dark tunnel again, her reflection gazing back at her blankly.

Temptation got the better of Loki. It only took a moment for him to stop willing her to look past him, for his reflection to appear in the window behind Raleigh, and for her to whip around, mouth opening in a gasp—

He was gone before the cry of horror could even leave her lips, invisible to her just as he was to every other person inside of the carriage. She backed up against the door, visibly shaken, and glanced around the compartment nervously, as if she were checking to see if anyone else had noticed the disturbance.

The train began to slow and the platform came into view. With a groan, the carriage shuddered to a halt and the cool, robotic voice announced: "This is Camden Town."

The doors dinged, sliding open, and after a final look to where Loki was still standing, she turned and disembarked onto the platform.

Loki didn't hesitate to follow her.

* * *

><p>"I'm really sorry about that," Jenny continued on a the two girls moved into the flat's kitchen together. She was referring to Hannah and Brian, who had drunkenly stumbled out of the door together upon Raleigh's arrival. "I mean, I reckon we ought to have expected it given her reputation, but still."<p>

"Well, given her reputation, don't you think I should be happy that I'm not sleeping with him?" replied Raleigh. Jenny snorted and so, although she had decided long before Hannah Ayers took Brian McNally to bed that she wasn't interested in sleeping with him, the girl added pettily, "Who knows what she gave him."

Raleigh reached for a bottle of rum on the counter, watching as Jenny smiled at an auburn haired boy named Charlie that she'd been making eyes at since Raleigh's arrival and probably even before that. Pouring a bit of the alcohol into her cup, Raleigh asked, "So, Hollingberry then?"

"Sorry?" Jenny said, facing her abruptly. "What about Charlie?"

"I thought you were interested in Dan, is all," explained Raleigh, referring to one of their hosts, "I didn't know you had a thing for Charlie."

"Oh." Jenny's cheeks flushed slightly and then she added, "Well, Dan's got a girlfriend in Sheffield."

"He's certainly not acting like someone who has a girlfriend in Sheffield," observed Raleigh as she exchanged the rum bottle for orange juice. "He was awfully friendly with Edie, don't you think?" Jenny grumbled something indistinguishable under her breath in reply. "Charlie seems nice though," she added as if it were an afterthought. "You been talking to him much?"

Jenny shrugged noncommittally, plucking the rum from the counter to add a bit more to her still unfinished drink; when she'd finished with the rum and had added a splash of vodka into her cup as well, she looked up at Raleigh.

"So what took you so long anyway?" she prompted, changing the subject. "Some kind of existential crisis in the self-help section?"

"Clever. Very clever."

"I'm serious," insisted the other girl as she began to search for the bottle of tequila. "What happened to you? You said you'd text and then you never did. I thought you'd have been here ages ago—is everything all right?"

"Yeah, fine," said Raleigh with a wave of her hand. "I just had a mad rush towards the end and needed to stock shelves…you know how it is."

"Mm," her friend sounded sceptical and arched an eyebrow at Raleigh, but said nothing more.

They left the kitchen, returning to the flat's living room, where there were about ten or so other people that the hosts, Elaine and Dan, knew from their work and the university. Raleigh said her hellos to those that she already knew and introduced herself to a couple of others, then retreated to the windowsill that overlooked the narrow yard at the back of the house. It was here that she sipped her drink and watched as Jenny mingled with Charlie and it was here that she again felt the familiar prickle of goosebumps rippling along her skin…

She glanced over her shoulder towards the darkened backyard.

Nothing.

It was nothing.

_I'm being silly,_ she reminded herself sternly, for what must've been the hundredth time. _There's nothing to be scared of._

Well, maybe not. She had been hallucinating all night, seeing this Loki character in places where he shouldn't have been. Wasn't that worth being scared of? Christ, what if she was going mad or there was something seriously wrong with her…

"Hey, Raleigh, this is Charlie." Jenny had returned to her side, bringing with her the young man with light auburn hair. He gave her a sheepish, goofy looking smile, and stuck out his hand to her, which she accepted. "Charlie, this is Raleigh. I think you two know each other already?"

"Yeah," nodded Raleigh, giving the boy a smile of her own. "We've got a class together. Public Law, isn't it?"

He bobbed his head up and down, still wearing his lopsided grin. "That's the one."

"Brutal, isn't it?"

"It only gets worse from what I've heard," he replied good-naturedly, releasing Raleigh's hand from the firm grasp he'd held it in. "So you and Jenny are good mates she's told me?"

"We went to school together," piped up Jenny with a smile. "When Raleigh moved here from New York, her mum sent her to school up in Oxford where I was going. We shared a dorm for most of sixth form."

"Ah, right," Charlie nodded and glanced around the room before adding, "Well, I'm the odd man out here, I suppose, having gone to state school."

"You're not the only one," Jenny reminded him. "Hannah and Edie both went, and so did Will." Charlie rolled his eyes. "Don't act so smug, Will's quite clever."

"The only one on that list, anyway."

"Didn't Nick go, too?" asked Raleigh, referring to the round faced young man across the room that was trying to down his third pint of beer in rapid succession.

"No…. I think he went to Eton, actually," said Jenny. She grimaced and added, "Bit of a tosser, that one."

The other two nodded in silent agreement, with Charlie confiding to Raleigh quietly, "This really isn't what I wanted to be doing on my Friday night."

"No?" prompted Raleigh, who stole a furtive glance at Jenny. "Did Jenny convince you that you had to go, too?"

"Yeah, actually. Something like that," he laughed. "Not that I was doing much of anything else. I've got a pile of readings to do and, well, you know."

Raleigh smiled shrewdly, agreeing, and then changed the topic, asking about where Charlie had grown up (Birmingham), if he had any siblings (four, as a matter of fact, and all girls), and how he'd met Jenny (she'd spilled coffee on his European law textbook during the first week of term). He was nice, and she liked him, but more importantly she liked the way that Jenny's eyes sparkled as Charlie spoke and waved his hands around animatedly.

The conversation shifted again, this time to rugby as another guest came over to their group, this one named Philip. He was a fairly large, imposing sort of character, Raleigh thought, but for all his talk of this rugby player and that rugby match and the rowdiness of Twickenham, he was gentle as could be. Charlie and Philip bantered back and forth for a while over team statistics while Jenny sidled up to the window and took a seat beside Raleigh on the ledge.

"So, what do you think?" the blonde asked in a hushed tone.

"Hmm," Raleigh murmured, mouth twisting into a frown, "I don't know, Jen…his nose is a bit big and his eyes are a bit small."

Jenny exhaled sharply and then gave her friend a playful punch to the leg. "That isn't funny," she admonished sharply, stealing a glance at Charlie to make sure that he hadn't overheard. "Really, come on now."

"He's fine, he's great," the other girl amended, more genuine this time. "You've been making eyes at him all night, you know."

"But do you think he's all right? Like, should I ask him for a coffee?"

"Jenny, do whatever you like."

"But, Leigh—"

"No, I'm not getting involved." She threw her hands into the air, shaking her head, and then got to her feet. "Besides, I need to get home."

"What?" cried Philip, turning to face her. "You can't go now!"

"Got to," she insisted with a half-hearted shrug. She gave her bag a pat as she picked it up from the floor, and flashed Charlie a smile. "Need to do some light reading."

Charlie laughed. "Light my arse."

"You'll see that Jenny gets home, won't you?" she replied, glancing between her friend and Charlie. Jenny's cheeks flushed red, but Charlie hardly seemed to notice as a look of surprise dawned across his features.

"Sure," he agreed before collecting himself. "If that's all right with Jenny, I mean."

Raleigh doubted that would be a problem for Jenny, but didn't say anything else, instead she said goodbye to Jenny, Phil, and Charlie, and then slipped past them to say thank-you to her hosts. When she'd finished and placed her plastic cup in the kitchen's rubbish bin, she left, hurrying down the stairwell and out into the brisk night.

Once outside, Raleigh pulled her cigarettes out of her pocket and placed one between her lips, which she promptly lit and inhaled from. She closed her eyes, exhaling in relief, and allowed herself to relax for the first time in four hours.

_This,_ she thought as she opened her eyes and pulled the cigarette away to release a mouthful of smoke, _I needed this._ She brought it back to her mouth, glancing around warily, and then set off. _It's all over. Thank God._

She'd managed to make it through the night without any trouble since 'Loki' and there hadn't been any Brian McNally or Hannah Ayers or anything else…. It was finally over and she could go home, go to sleep, and wake up in the morning to a better day.

Raleigh took her time, making her way back to the Tube station slowly. She kept to the shadows, the hood of her jacket thrown up to hide her face from passerby, and continued to smoke.

Jenny had a crush.

It was adorable really, especially since the trouble with Jenny had always been that she couldn't find a good, stable boyfriend. Well, that was when she made it to the boyfriend stage. It wasn't for lack of trying or anything, and she was nowhere near as bad as some of Raleigh's other friends who made even more questionable decisions, but there just hadn't been anyone special yet for Jenny.

Margaret had Collin and Raleigh had had Jim. Jenny had dated here and there, but without any longterm result. Kate was the only one of them who had never really dated or been in a relationship come to think of it, but Kate wasn't exactly into relationships. They were too stressful, she argued. Jenny on the other hand wanted a relationship desperately, but it just never panned out. She was envious, for some bizarre reason, of Margaret and Raleigh and acted like she was pressed for time in finding someone to love. Raleigh, Kate, and Margaret also knew (but would never admit) that most of Jenny's conquests were fake. They entertained Jenny's wild tales with good humour, listening to her recount fictitious nights of passion in exotic locations and with handsome men. Raleigh could understand it, she supposed. It went hand in hand with her little complex; after all, if you were sleeping with your Italian ski instructor and having quickies with Greek sailors on holiday there was no need for a boyfriend. It also sounded much more exciting than bringing up that peaky bloke from Manchester, Jon.

Despite her preoccupation with Jenny and Charlie, her mind kept straying back to the bookstore and to the man who called himself Loki. Her pace slowed and she rubbed her chin thoughtfully as she reflected on the encounter again.

There was no way that it was really him, she reasoned. People like that were locked up in prisons in solitary confinement. They had one hour of supervised exercise a day and spent the rest of their time in lockup. Surely in a world where there were people like Tony Stark there were prisons that were equipped to handle so-called superhumans or even aliens, if the conspiracy theories were true and that's really what the guy was.

Granted, there were two giant monsters that had destroyed Harlem five years ago, and they'd never caught the one, had they?

She flicked the ash from the end of her cigarette and shook her head.

_Stupid._

It was stupid to even worry about this because, after all, it was impossible. What were the chances that a man who killed thousands of people had escaped prison, managed to get across the Atlantic Ocean, into England, and had evaded all capture only to arrive on her doorstep? Slim to none. Impossible, really. So that left some dickhead who thought it was funny to stalk girls and adopt the personality of a murderer. She wasn't sure which was worse.

Except…

If it was just some dickhead having a laugh, why was she still seeing him at every turn? Why did she feel so damn paranoid?

What if it was true? What if the one in the million—no, billion—had really happened?

What if it was true and she'd actually met the real Loki tonight? What was she supposed to do? Call the cops? They'd think she was mad or trying to have a laugh at their expense. No one in their right mind would believe her if she told them. They'd all say the same thing—_he's locked up, the Avengers took care of him, he'll never hurt another person again._

No one else would die because of the terrorist they called Loki.

Raleigh's hand fluttered to her bag again, touching the main compartment. She hadn't been lying about her light reading, it just wasn't the readings she'd been assigned for her Public Law course—she'd borrowed a book from the stock room on her way out on Norse mythology. She'd stuffed it down inside of her bag, amid all of the loose change and receipts from Boots and her wallet, and latched it shut, making sure that it was secure before she set off.

It probably wouldn't be very useful, but there was a small part of her that thought just maybe it would yield some information, some kind of leg up. He knew her name—what else did he know? If it was really Loki, if the conspiracy nuts on the Internet were right and the government was covering up aliens and alternate dimensions, maybe the myths weren't so far off the mark. Maybe a book like this could level the playing field some.

It probably wouldn't. Just like it probably wasn't really him.

Still, it couldn't hurt anything just to read a little bit more about the guy. So she'd read whatever this book had and then she'd delve into the Internet forums and see what they had pieced together about his identity.

_Just in case,_ she'd told herself when she took the book, and she repeated it now as she walked through the dark. _Just in case._

* * *

><p>Her chambers were small.<p>

In one corner of the room there sat a small desk where several textbooks were neatly piled in a corner, all bearing rather dull titles about European law. Papers littered the rest of the desktop, all bearing the same tiny, messy handwriting that must've been the girl's. He leaned over one of the papers, trying to figure out what it said, and then shook his head after a moment, unable to make heads or tails of the symbols and foreign looking words. Women on Asgard never had handwriting this abysmal...

The room's walls were the colour of eggshells and mostly bare, but her shelves were littered with little sentimental items and knick-knacks. There were several ceramic and stuffed animals interspersed between pictures frames and books. Curious to see what else the girl read, he approached her bookshelf carefully, and scanned the spines with interest. He tilted his head to the side, reading the names Rowling, Tolkien, Martin, Fitzgerald, Bulgakov, Dumas, Lewis, Brown…. None of them sounded familiar to Loki, not that he'd spent much of his spare time reading Midgardian literature.

Straightening up, he turned to inspect the photos that she'd set out instead. There were two of Raleigh and the girl that she shared the flat with; one of them showed the two standing in a lush green field together while the other included two more girls, another blonde and a black girl. The second photo interested him more, if only because they were all wearing the same uniform (a dark blazer and pale blue skirt) and were posing on the green in front of a large, imposing looking building. All of the girls wore broad smiles and, when he glanced over his should at the girl who was sitting cross legged on her narrow bed, must have been taken recently. Raleigh's hair hadn't grown much, maybe an inch at most, and her skin was a little darker from the sun, but otherwise there was little change in her.

In another photo, obviously taken several years before when he saw Raleigh's much rounder, childish face, she was with a different girl, who had mousy brown hair, large eyes the colour of mud, and a mouthful of braces. Raleigh's hair was shorter in the photo, as was she, and the photo had captured an obvious sheen of oil on both girls' foreheads. He frowned, glancing towards the young woman again, and begrudgingly admitted to himself that puberty had improved her—if only slightly.

She'd gotten taller and slimmed out, her features becoming sharper with age, though she'd never acquired much in the way of curves, and her hair had grown in so that it fell down over her small chest rather than dangling above her narrow, bony shoulders. She also managed to keep the spots that seemed to plague her in early adolescence at bay better now, he noted with a smirk.

The next photo he found was a photo of a man that must've been her father and perhaps her brother. He could see the resemblance between the two and Raleigh, for they all shared the same dark brown hair, but there was a much closer and clearer resemblance between her father and brother than Raleigh and the two men. She must've taken after her mother then, with her small nose and pale lips.

Loki glanced around on the shelf for a photo of the woman in question and found it up high. Sure enough, the woman bore a striking resemblance to Raleigh—the same nose and mouth, even a similar face. Their eyes were alike, almond-shaped and the colour of amber, but where Raleigh's eyes were soft and kind, the woman in the photo had a shrewd, cunning look about her, with eyes that seemed to judge the viewer even through the photo. The man beside Raleigh's mother had thick, dark grey hair and a bulbous nose, his jaw was strong and his shoulders were broad, but his smile was genuine and cheerful, stretching wide across his face.

She was sentimental then. That was good to know. Sentimentality meant that there was leverage and leverage meant that he could have his way with her.

Raleigh sighed from behind, drawing Loki's attention to her again. She was still sitting in bed, legs folded beneath herself, and reading out of a thick book with her laptop open in front of her, the glow of the screen casting blue sheen across half of her face. Her brow was furrowed deep in concentration as she read another passage and then glanced up at the screen, as if she were checking the facts.

He approached her, thankful for his continued invisibility, and looked over her shoulder to see what she was reading.

_Loki is the Norse god of mischief. Throughout the Germanic tradition, including the Poetic Eddas and Norse Sagas,  
>Loki maintains a neutral, almost ambivalent position among the Aesir.<em>

How quaint.

She was reading the myths of her people and for what? To try to learn more about him? What an amusing thought. They wouldn't be of any use to her, most of them were entire works of fiction. He'd never had a wife or any children, he'd never been bound to a stone, and he'd certainly never had his mouth sewn shut. Well, he hadn't yet. He suspected that it was a very tempting thought to the All-Father at times.

He leaned closer, peering over Raleigh's shoulder to see what was on her computer.

**SENATOR STERN ACCUSES PRESIDENT ELLIS OF NEW YORK COVER UP:  
>"THE AMERICAN PEOPLE DESERVE TO KNOW THE TRUTH." | THE DAILY BUGLE<strong>  
><em>- June Carmichael, October 8, 2011<em>

That at least sounded mildly interesting. Far more interesting than hearing that he'd birthed a six-legged foal, anyway. Making sure that she couldn't see or feel him, Loki lowered himself down onto the bed behind Raleigh, reading the news article along with her:

Washington, D.C. — Senator Rick Stern (R-PA) has accused President Ellis of a government conspiracy  
>to withhold information about the May 4 terrorist attack on Midtown and Lower Manhattan. In a speech<br>given earlier today, Stern noted that the President has not been entirely forthcoming with information  
>regarding the identity or whereabouts of the terrorist known only as Loki.<p>

"The facts are that we don't know where this man came from and we don't know where he is now.  
>We haven't been briefed on the details of his imprisonment or given any details about whether there<br>will be a trial. Since his apprehension in May, the American people and this Congress have been in the  
>dark about this man's identity and his whereabouts. Is he in Guantanamo Bay? Florence ADMAX?<br>We obviously don't know."

Stern went on to accuse the government of hiding evidence about the terrorist's origin, stating: "We know  
>that this man came to America with an army of what we can only describe as aliens, ladies and gentlemen.<br>But this Administration has refused to comment on the origin of Loki and his army, they have continued  
>to deny that this man has power beyond what we were told, and insisted that we have been dealing with<br>your average terrorist—I don't believe that."

Citing the atmospheric disturbance in New Mexico last year, Stern argued that there had been an alien  
>invasion and that the government was complicit in hiding the evidence from the general public. "But why?"<br>he asked. "Why would President Ellis deny the truth when we have the Avengers? Are they not enough?  
>We've been told that we have nothing to fear, yet we have no answers, and I for one want answers,<br>ladies and gentlemen!"

The White House has not yet responded to Sen. Stern's comments, however pressure on President Ellis to  
>make an official statement about the May attacks is mounting. A Congressional hearing is due to be held<br>in the coming weeks with top officials from the Ellis administration being questioned about the government's  
>response and the subsequent investigations. There have been numerous public figures questioning the<br>Ellis Administration's response and the veracity of the preliminary reports that have since been issued.  
>Among the many theories that have been postulated is Stern's, which is steadily gaining the support<br>of the scientific community.

A former NASA employee, who requested to remain anonymous, told the Bugle: "There's a lot of evidence  
>out there that lends credence to the theory that this man was not from Earth. There was a high level of<br>cosmic dust found in New York following the attacks as well as radioactive particles that we've encountered  
>only on space missions. You also have to consider that the so-called army used appeared to be humanoid and<br>sentient, and that we had what we can only describe as a wormhole above Midtown Manhattan. There's photographic  
>evidence of these things, which makes it difficult to deny or explain as a freak phenomenon. There are too many<br>loose ends here."

Raleigh let out a frustrated groan, shoving the laptop away from herself without finishing the article, and then buried her face in her hands. Loki watched as she pushed the book of myths from her lap and got to her feet, pacing the room while she ran her hands through her hair and stretched her arms.

"So," she said out loud, "the Internet thinks he's an alien. And if he's an alien then that means that he could definitely get out of a supermax prison or Guantanamo. And also how he'd be able to get over here from America." She spun on her heel, swearing bitterly, and chewed on her thumbnail. "Fuck. I'm so screwed. Whatever I do, I'm screwed..."

Loki's eyes darted towards her shelf, a plan forming in his head as the girl continued rambling to herself. Time was of the essence. He had to persuade her somehow. He couldn't keep waiting and dawdling about invisibly. He had to act.

"What am I going to do?" she moaned, turning her back on him. "Shit, shit, shit, _shit..." _She rubbed her temples and shook her head. "What if he comes back? How am I supposed to stop that? Fuck, and the pictures!"

He dropped his illusion, his mind made up, and cleared his throat, saying, "It's admirable, you know."

Raleigh wheeled around, the blood draining from her face as she found him sitting in her bed.

He smiled. "Doing your research so diligently, I mean," he gestured towards the book and then her laptop, revelling in the way her eyes were growing wider as she stumbled back, up against her desk. "It's a good trait for an assistant to have."

She screamed.

* * *

><p>What happened after that was a blur.<p>

The scream had barely left Raleigh's lips before one of Loki's hands covered her mouth, the other seizing her by the arm and steering her back against the wall where he pinned her. His eyes glinted dangerously, flashing as she struggled against him and continued screaming.

"Stop screaming," he ordered.

She fought harder and Loki shook her vigorously.

"I said to stop screaming!" he barked. "If you don't shut up, I'll rip your tongue out and choke you with it—is that understood?" Raleigh's eyes widened in horror and for the first time since his sudden appearance she went completely silent. "Better."

Her chest rose and and fell rapidly, her heart hammering loudly against her ribcage, and she searched his face for any hint of softness, hoping that if she found some there might be mercy, too. She felt nauseous—_how could this possibly be happening?! It couldn't be! It couldn't!_—and as she met his gaze, she could see her own terrified reflection in the green of his irises.

"I'm going to release you," continued Loki, "I have no intention of hurting you unless you do something stupid."

Raleigh nodded and he removed his hand from her mouth, allowing her the chance to speak. It took a moment to compose herself, but then, feebly: "H-how—who—"

"Loki," he reminded her curtly. "My name is Loki."

She struggled with herself before blurting out, _"Howthefuckdidyougetin?!"_

"I followed you," he said, letting go of her arm at last. He took a step backwards, eyes trained on her face as she looked up at him in surprise. "Yes?"

"You…I saw you! In the train station and then on the Tube. That—that was really you?"

"Yes."

This couldn't be real…. Her stomach was churning again. It couldn't. It couldn't be.

"Why?" she asked after a tense pause. "Why did you follow me? And how did you hide yourself like you did?"

He smirked. "You didn't think it would be so simple, did you? That I'd go because you asked?" Loki's eyebrows rose, and he turned on his heel, walking back to the bed where he sat beside her laptop and the book of myths. "I'm afraid that I find myself in need of someone with your…abilities."

"My abilities?"

"A human."

"And you couldn't pick one of the other seven billion?" she asked angrily. "Why _me?"_

"Because I want you," he replied coolly, beginning to turn the pages of the book with mild interest. "Do not question me, mortal."

_Mortal?_ She blinked, remembering that he'd used it earlier in the evening. "Where are you from?"

"Excuse me?" Loki looked up at her, his eyes cold. "You keep calling me mortal, like you're not one, and since you hid yourself from me all night, you must be something else, right?" she reasoned nervously. "So where are you from?"

He frowned, looking back down at the book, and did not answer her for several moments. "Asgard," he said as he turned another page and Raleigh began to edge away from the wall. "It is a realm far beyond your own."

"That's the home of the Aesir, isn't it?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "So say the myths of your people."

"Isn't it true?" prompted Raleigh. "And does that make you some kind of god?"

"I suppose it might," Loki drawled, unwilling to commit to anything or reveal too much. "Not planning to kill me already, are you? And to think," he continued as Raleigh began to protest, "we haven't even begun to discuss the terms of our arrangement yet."

"There's not going to be any sort of arrangement," she said before she could stop herself. "I won't do it. Whatever it is you want, I won't. I'm not going to hurt anyone."

He looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. "I don't believe you have a choice."

"I'll call the police," she said, recycling her earlier threat.

"And I'll kill you before you reach your phone," he replied evenly. "Do you truly wish to test me, child? It is in your best interest that you not."

Raleigh hesitated, her eyes darting between where her phone sat on her bedside table and the man who had intruded on her twice now. "I'm not going to help you," she told him. "I don't care what you need. I'm not going to do it."

"No?"

"No."

And she lunged towards her bedside table, stretching her hand out to grab for her phone when a heavy weight collided with her, throwing her to the floor and pinning her. She shrieked as Loki's hands seized her wrists and then began to thrash against him.

_"Let me go!"_

"You listen to me, mortal, and you listen well," said Loki, ignoring her plea as he held her down. "I have need of you. I require a service and I shall extract it from you forcibly if necessary, is that understood?"

"Please!"

"If you do not heed my call, I will kill you."

Raleigh tensed, barely able to breathe as hot tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes.

"And I do not mean to kill you swiftly. I will start by destroying all that you love and all that you hold dear—" He said the first thing that came to mind: "—do you wish to see your father die?"

"N-no!" She shook her head fearfully, choking on a sob. "No, please. _Please."_

"I thought that might be the case," he sneered. "And you should know that when I've finished with him, I'll slit your brother's throat." She began to cry, her whole body quivering with fear. "No, no, please," she sobbed. "They've done nothing wrong. I won't—I promise—I—"

"I suppose you would rather that I simply snap your neck then?" he prompted, one hand fluttering to her throat as he spoke. Her sobs grew worse. "I have no qualms with killing you, Raleigh, in fact I might do it right now if you just pushed a little to far…" Her eyes widened and she made an incoherent plea that was lost on him. "…But I would much prefer to savour the act, and to do that, I need to start slowly. Murder is an intimate thing, you see. Very intimate, almost like making love."

He lowered his face towards her, delighting in the way that she pressed herself back towards the floor, and continued, "One by one, all the things, all the people that you love—I will take them from you. I will make you beg for the release of death and when the time finally comes, I will ruin you."

"I…I'll d-do it!" she cried. "Whatever y-you want, whatever you n-need!" She bobbed her head up and down obediently, her free hand pressing to his chest. "Please, please don't hurt me. Don't hurt anyone else. Please, _please…."_

Satisfied, Loki released her and got to his feet, watching as she rolled over and buried her face in her hands. She sure she was going to throw up and her skin was on fire where he'd touched her. She felt dirty and guilty, and sobs racked her body until she was dry heaving.

Loki meanwhile returned to his seat, watching as Raleigh sobbed and then eventually began to calm down. She sat up slowly, hugging her knees to her chest as she blinked back whatever tears she had left and hiccuped.

"So we have a deal then?" he asked, breaking the silence. "Your services for my guarantee of your loved one's safety?"

She lifted her gaze to meet his and felt her stomach lurch uncomfortably at how impassive he looked. He was completely unaffected by her tears and horror—what choice did she have here? He had followed her invisibly, he could kill her and her family, he wasn't even human…. There was no choice for her. Either she listened (and listened very well by the sounds of it) or she would have the blood of her family and friends on her hands.

"Yes," she said hoarsely. "I'll help you if you leave the people I love alone."

"Very good girl," he purred, returning to her. Raleigh flinched as he patted his hand on her head condescendingly and bile rushed up her throat until she could taste it on her tongue.

What was she doing? What was she thinking?

Placing one long finger on the underside of her chin, Loki tilted her face upwards and warned her, "Don't be stupid. You will only hurt yourself and the people that you love by being stupid. Help me find the Book of Ullr and all of your troubles will go away."

"I won't be," she whispered.

She hoped that this would be it, the worst of it, because she couldn't think of anything worse just then. Unfortunately for Raleigh, it was just the beginning and things would get much worse than this before it was all over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **This story is based off of characters and situations created by Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber, among various other writers, and Marvel Entertainment LLC, a subsidiary of the Walt Disney Company. There is no copyright infringement intended on my part, and I am not making any monetary gain from this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four: Would You Say It's Kismet?<strong>

The pub was dark and narrow, packed tight with customers of various shapes and sizes and different ages. The smell of beer and liquor filled Loki's nose as he pushed his way through the crowd at the bar towards the rear dining area. He passed the kitchens where there was clattering and shouting while the distinct scent of vinegar and fish wafted from behind the doors, which set his stomach to rumbling lowly.

It was deafeningly loud. Overhead, music blared from large black speakers and muted televisions broadcast the results of an earlier sporting match. Everywhere he looked there were Midgardians and they were constantly _pushing..._

"Couldn't have picked a better place, could you?" he drawled, approaching a table where a tall, slender woman with blonde hair sat, a coat the colour of jade draped over the back of her chair.

The woman looked up from her fingernails and smirked.

"I thought it best to help you acclimate," she replied, lifting one of several glasses that covered the table to toast him mockingly. "After all, this is your new home."

"Don't be crass," he grumbled, throwing himself down into the chair opposite her. "Making friends, are you?"

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, taking a slow sip of the clear cocktail. "Help yourself," she said when she'd set her glass aside. "They've all been paid for."

"How charitable," Loki said, picking up a shorter glass of amber liquid. He swirled it several times, thinking that it looked promising, and added, "You know, I don't think I've ever been confronted with such mind numbing stupidity and I say that having grown up with Thor."

"All the better for us," she returned evenly. She flicked her long hair over one bare shoulder and glanced around the dining area curiously, her dark green eyes shrewd. "Don't tell me you haven't thought to use it to your advantage."

"Free alcohol isn't exactly advantageous to me, Amora," he replied coolly and sipped the drink she'd offered him. He glanced her over curiously, noting the way the black dress hugged close to the curves of her body, and then asked, "Why did you call me here? Do you have news?"

She pressed her lips together, considering him for a moment, and then granted a short, taunting answer. "Yes."

"Well?" he demanded, exasperated. "What about? What's happened?"

"All in good time," said Amora with a dismissive wave of her hand. "How is the little mortal?"

"It's an imbecile." He leaned across the table, pressing, "What's happened on Asgard?"

"Is it cooperating?"

"I suppose."

"You suppose?" She arched a sceptical eyebrow at him. "I'm afraid I don't understand, Loki. Is it or is it not helping you to find the Book of Ullr?"

"Yes, but I haven't had contact with it for several days."

The other eyebrow rose now as well. "How long?"

"A week at most?" He shrugged it off. "It's foolish, Amora. The less time I spend with it, the better—"

"If you want its cooperation you should be ensuring that it likes you," the woman hissed, cutting him off. "I like it no more than you, but right now your sole purpose is to schmooze that stupid girl into acquiring the Book for us."

"It keeps talking about googles and the Amazon, I don't know what more you want me to do!" he spat. "Shall I make it my pet? Shall I become friends with it? Braid its hair and gossip? Is that what I have to do for you to be satisfied?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I will be satisfied when you know where the Book is and even more so when I hold it in my hands."

"Well, I don't need to be with it at every waking moment to ensure that that will happen."

"Perhaps, but you do need to make sure that it understands you are serious and that you are very much _not going to leave it alone," _growled Amora. "What if it's gone to the police?"

"It hasn't."

"And you know this for a fact?"

"Yes, I've been watching it!" he told her brusquely. "What do you take me for, Amora, a fool?"

"I only worry about where your loyalties are, Loki, we both know that you can be sentimental at the worst times."

He frowned and drew back from her. "If it were not for my so-called sentimentality, you might never have been granted a return to the City."

"That's different," she sniffed, straightening in her seat. "I was exiled wrongly and the least you could have done to atone for that was to appeal in my favour."

Loki resisted the urge to bicker and instead took a deep drink of the amber alcohol, allowing it to burn his throat. "So what's happened then?"

"Nothing particularly exciting," she purred, tracing the rim of her glass with her pinky. "The Kree have started another war."

"And why should Kree killing themselves interest me?"

"Thanos is quite interested in forming an alliance," she explained, her lips curving into a cunning smile. "He's watching them closely to see who wins this bout."

"Do they have a stone?"

"It doesn't matter, does it? If they have a stone already, I'm quite sure they'll be using it in battle. If they don't, then I expect that Thanos believes they can find one somewhere in their corner of the universe... Do you doubt him?"

"I doubt a tribe of relative barbarians and their capabilities."

"Your knowledge of the Kree is quite dated, Loki," she informed him coolly. "They say that there's a new leader, much more radical and far more learned than any before him. Thanos expects him to win and should he, we will be working alongside him for the Master."

"Oh do be careful, Amora, you might ruin your panties with all this talk."

She scowled, grabbing his arm and forcing it back down when he tried to raise the lowball glass to his lips again. "Ronan is a powerful ally, Loki. Should we succeed here, we will need his help to combat the All-Father."

"And should we succeed here, what makes you think that I won't just kill the old man myself?" He shook her hand off and sipped the alcohol. "Besides, there's still the little problem of Nova Corps for this Ronan character. We can consider him an ally once he's rid himself of their control. Until then, he is governed by their whims."

"You'd never be able to kill the All-Father."

"Not without my magic," he replied coldly. "Speaking of which, when were you planning to return that to me?"

"When you do your duty and acquire the Book."

"Ah," he said, pursing his lips. Another drink. "And I suppose there's nothing I might do to sway your hand?"

"No." The answer was firm. "The Book first and then I will right the wrong that has been done to you, as agreed before your departure from Asgard. No sooner. Do not think me so foolish as to trust you implicitly, Loki. A millennia of your time has been quite informative as to your character."

"I'm hurt," he said and placed a hand over his heart for emphasis. "I hope you have something in mind to make it up to me."

She rolled her eyes. "How are you finding the lodging that I arranged for you?"

"Adequate," he granted after a pause. "By Midgardian standards I suppose it's nice."

"By Midgardian standards it's excellent," she murmured reproachfully, sipping one of the drinks.

They were quiet for a few minutes, each listening to the dull roar of the crowd at the bar while they drank and kept their thoughts to themselves. Eventually, having finished with his drink, Loki rose to his feet.

"Will that be all then?" he asked Amora. "Engage the mortal and keep a weather eye out for some Kree?"

"Engage the mortal, yes," Amora agreed, turning in her seat to look at him. "I will worry about the Kree. Concern yourself with the mortal and the Book." She uncrossed her legs, also standing, and plucked her coat from the back of her chair. "Now then, would you care for some company this evening?"

Loki smiled, placing a hand at the small of her back, and leaned in close. "I always desire your company," he murmured and he kissed her cheek gently. "We could—"

"Ah," she placed a finger to his lips, silencing him, and smiled. "If you want company, I suggest you find your Midgardian."

He pulled back, gritting his teeth together. "Amora—"

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head as she buttoned up her coat. "I couldn't. It would be far too risky for me to spend the night with you, my love." She cupped his face in her hands, batting her lashes, and added, "The All-Father has eyes everywhere. We mustn't let him get any ideas about what it is that we're up to."

* * *

><p>Kate brushed her bangs out of her eyes and stole another glance at the bar. "So are they dating or not?" she asked, referring to Jenny and Charlie. "I can't tell."<p>

Raleigh followed her friend's gaze towards the couple, who were busy buying the next round of drinks for their table. They were talking animatedly to each other, standing close, and for all intents, it looked as if they _were_ dating.

"I guess they're seeing each other," she said at last. She rolled her eyes at Kate's grumbling as she returned her attention to the table. "Don't get in a huff with me. Jenny won't say either way."

Kate pursed her lips and sat back, drumming her fingers on the tabletop rhythmically. "I thought we agreed that we weren't bringing significant others out with us." She looked between Margaret and Raleigh, who both shrugged. "Well, we did agree that _Margaret _ wasn't bringing Collin, so I just assumed that everyone understood the protocol: no boys."

"Col's camping in the Cairngorms this weekend with his brothers," said the black girl in between sips of her vodka and cranberry juice. "So he wouldn't have come even if you deigned it acceptable, Kate."

Raleigh snorted at the slightly condescending tone in Margaret's voice, then asked, "What's he doing all the way up there? Is he out of his mind?"

"It's _freezing_ up there," agreed Kate emphatically. "Is it even legal to go camping there after October?"

"It's a cabin that Davey rented out," explained Margaret simply. "He was supposed to go with Shannon, but you all know how that ended, so Collin and Robert went with him instead." There was a quiet murmur of agreement as both recalled Collin's older brother breaking up with his fiancée, Shannon. "She called him, you know."

Kate and Raleigh exchanged a look from across the table at one another, neither of them quite sure of how to react to the news.

"You're joking, right?" said Kate eventually, figuring that if Margaret was bringing it up, it was a safe topic. "She can't be _that_ dumb, can she?"

"No," Margaret said, shaking her head. "I wish I was joking. He's been a mess ever since she came out with how she'd been fucking Matt for six months, but he finally started to get a bit better and, of course, the bitch calls him. And she's going on about how she made such a big mistake and how she loves him and it's eating her apart, but she was scared and unsure about what she wanted and if he takes her back, she'll earn his trust and never stray…. Christ, I could've been sick."

"And, um, what did Davey say?" asked Raleigh, exchanging another look with Kate as Margaret took a particularly long drink of her cocktail. "He's not going to take her back, right?"

She scoffed. "No!" she exclaimed. "Are _you_ mad, Raleigh? He told her to fuck off and that he was going to keep the Playstation she bought him as an apology present."

Kate breathed a huge sigh of relief while Raleigh grinned. "Crisis averted then, eh?" she asked Margaret. "You don't have to kill anyone."

"Yet."

"Yet," mimicked Kate, sticking her tongue out. "You know, I've never known anyone who hates people nearly as much as you, Marge."

"One more time, Wood," threatened Margaret. "One more time, I dare you."

"Oooh, I think she might kill me, Raleigh!" Kate cried teasingly. She leaned forward, propping her elbows up on the table, and pressed, "You know I only call you Marge because you hate it, don't you?"

Margaret rolled her eyes. "You realise, I hope, that if there were any of us here capable of successfully committing murder, it would be me, don't you?"

"I've heard her plan," piped up Raleigh with a solemn nod. "It's actually very impressive."

"Fair point," conceded the blonde as her eyes narrowed. "But I also call you Marge because you're like a mother. _Mother Marge. _That's what you're in my phone as—" Kate yelped, flying backwards in her seat as Margaret reached for her.

Raleigh smothered her laughter behind her hand while Margaret relaxed, a triumphant smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"I had you going, didn't I?"

Kate glared. "Bitch."

"Who's a bitch?" asked Jenny as she and Charlie returned to the table, carrying several refills and a handful of shots. "It better not be me. I just spent like fifty quid on you lot."

"Mags was threatening to kill Kate, that's all," explained Raleigh as Jenny and Charlie shuffled back into the booth beside Kate, who wore a very irritated look. "Kate's also very upset that you broke her No Penis Policy, Jenny."

_"Raleigh!" _hissed Kate, kicking the brunette under the table. Raleigh swore. "Shut up!" She looked to her neighbours, adding hurriedly, "I wasn't, just so you know. Raleigh's lying."

"Yeah, Raleigh's lying," sneered Margaret; she looked directly at Charlie, adding, "Speaking of which, are you two dating? Kate was awfully curious."

_"Margaret!"_ Kate tried to kick Margaret, but missed, striking Raleigh again. Another curse. "Shit, sorry, Raleigh!"

"Charlie and I are just…" A very red Jenny hesitated, looking to the auburn haired young man for reassurance. He shrugged, mouthing lamely. "We're just hanging out for now. Right?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "Yeah, that's exactly it."

Margaret pursed her lips and looked over at Kate. "I call bullshit, do you call bullshit?"

"Definitely," said Kate, nodding.

"Agreed," Raleigh hissed through clenched teeth, rubbing her sore shin.

"Well, you know, I could go…" began Charlie, shifting uncomfortably. "I didn't realise—"

"No, you'll stay," Margaret said and Raleigh nodded quickly, turning her attention to him. "Kate's being a mong."

"Kate's always a mong, to be fair," added the other girl. "Right, Jenny?"

"About fifty percent mong, I'd say. Less if she buys the next round."

"Okay, okay, I'm _sorry!" _exclaimed Kate, throwing her hands up. "Really, I am. But I'm just used to our little get togethers not having any testosterone."

"Collin comes out all the time," bickered Jenny, frowning. "And Jim did when Jim was around."

"Oh, as if Collin counts anymore. He's practically one of us."

"She has a point," conceded Margaret. "Collin's seen all of us at our worst."

Jenny pretended to shudder. "Don't remind me."

"Sorry," said Charlie, breaking his silence. He leaned around Jenny, asking, "Who are Collin and Jim then?"

"Collin is Margaret's future husband and Jim was Raleigh's boyfriend before he moved back to New York to play cops and robbers," explained Jenny in a very matter-of-fact tone. "How long's it been now, Mags? Four years or five?"

"Four."

"Their anniversary is February twenty-second," droned Kate. "And every year they last, they make the rest of us lonely people feel like bigger losers than we actually are."

"Piss off, Wood, you don't even like relationships."

"I might if I met the right lady."

"And Collin's up with you at St. Andrew's?" interrupted Charlie, clearly trying to get things straight. Margaret nodded. "That's nice. What year?"

"Col's in his third year, but he's hoping to stay to do his Master's as it's quite close to his family," she said. "We're both in physics, before you ask." She nudged Raleigh gently. "And you could've been there, too."

Raleigh grimaced. "Let's try to save complaining about my mother—and explaining her—to Charlie for another day, huh?" she asked. "I don't want to scare him off."

"Well, she's not my mum," said Jenny. "So I don't think it will."

"Is your mum overbearing or something?" he asked, ignoring their protests.

Kate sniggered. "If you looked up _overbearing_ in the dictionary, Raleigh's mum would be there." Glancing to Raleigh, she quickly added, "No offence."

"None taken," she said, waving it off. "It's a bit complicated. She's not like a helicopter mum or anything, but she's very controlling and demanding and we don't quite get along."

"Understatement of the year," muttered Jenny, who then changed the subject, "Did you guys see those girls who walked in while we were up there?"

"Which ones?"

"The really drunk, slutty ones."

"I did, yeah, and the red haired one was actually kind of pretty," said Kate, sitting up in her seat to look around the pub. "Are they still here?"

Margaret shook her head ruefully. "You have the lowest standards of everyone here, Kate, do you know that?"

"Oooh, no," said Raleigh, shaking her head. "I actually ran into someone the other day, this bloke from Wales, and he was up there. So Kate might like them, but I'm a creep magnet."

"Did you get his number?" demanded Jenny.

"I just said he was a weirdo!"

"Okay, but did you get his number?"

"No, I didn't get his number and I'm glad I didn't either because he was weird and I'm…I'm not in a good place to be dating weird people."

"It would actually be a bit counterintuitive to date someone you think is weird," Charlie offered.

"Exactly," she agreed, looking back at Jenny smugly. "Even your boyfriend agrees."

"We're not—" Jenny broke off and huffed. "Oh, fuck it," she said. "But, _anyway_, back to my original point, you saw those girls come in didn't you?"

"Yeah," said Margaret. "What about them, Jen?"

"Nothing really, just the one—the redhead actually—came up to the bar and started hitting on this guy that was standing next to us." She craned her neck around, straining her eyes to see if they were still at the bar. "Yeah, they're still there talking, actually."

Kate's attention immediately snapped to the bar, where the scantily dressed woman was sidling up to a tall, blonde haired man. "How long 'til he takes her home, d'you reckon?"

"Well, that's the thing," said Charlie. "He was completely uninterested."

Raleigh shrugged. "Maybe he plays for the other team."

"Could be, or maybe he just doesn't like bar slags," suggested Margaret.

"I like Margaret's idea better," Jenny said, grinning. "And I don't blame him a bit. She smelled like my nan's liquor cabinet."

"So cheap sherry and old bourbon?" teased Kate, who winced and exhaled sharply when Jenny elbowed her in the side. "Your nan has abysmal taste in liquor, you can't deny it, Jen."

"We're not talking about my nan's stale liquor or her cheap wine," snapped Jenny. "We're talking about the hot guy at the bar, who I said we ought to invite over but Charlie disagreed."

"Why would you want to invite a complete stranger over?" asked Raleigh incredulously.

Charlie let out a triumphant cry. "That's what I said!"

"He looks lonely! And you're lonely, too!"

"Actually, he looks like he's admiring her tits," Margaret said, still watching the man and woman's exchange from her seat. "I give it another ten minutes before they leave. What do you reckon, Kate?"

"Twenty. She isn't falling over yet."

"What do you even care?" asked Charlie, his brow furrowing as the other two girls also turned their attention to the prospective couple. "You don't know them."

"They probably go to our uni," Raleigh said.

"You reckon?"

_"She_ definitely does," Jenny told Charlie. "I've seen her around with some of the third year Arts students, actually."

He pulled a face, glancing back at the drunk woman. "Well, that'd explain why Raleigh and I haven't seen her anywhere."

"Doesn't look like we're missing much," the other girl said dryly. She turned away from the scene, losing interest, and gestured at the shots that Jenny and Charlie had bought. "So are we going to drink these, or no?"

There was an immediate shift as the others also turned their attention to the drinks, which were soon in hand. As they began to raise their respective glasses to their lips, Kate asked, "Can we toast?"

Jenny looked at her in disbelief. "You—well—no."

"Just drink, Kate," instructed Margaret, who proceeded to down her shot in one go. One by one, the rest of the table followed suit, laughing and slamming their glasses down on the table, except for Raleigh, who gagged and choked on the vodka. She just barely managed to swallow the liquor, flip her glass upside down, and—

_"Ahhh!" _Kate pointed at her and crowed: "You were last! You were last! You're buying the next round!"

"Of course I was last!" She wheezed painfully, her eyes watering. "Jenny bought vodka shots!"

"Stop whining," admonished Jenny with a sly grin. "You set yourself up for this every time we go out." She began to mimic Raleigh: "'Don't buy vodka, I don't drink vodka. No, we can't have vodka shots, that's _so unfair_—'"

"Yeah, yeah, very funny," said the other girl as her breath evened out. She reached for her wallet. "You know what, when you finally puke up some tequila—and it's going to happen, Jen—I'll buy you tequila shooters all night."

"Oooh, can't wait," Jenny joked. "Shall I go pretend to throw up now?"

"That's—"

"'Scuse me?" The table quieted immediately, all eyes turning towards the newcomer: the red haired woman from the bar.

"Hullo," said Kate after a beat. Margaret shot her a dirty look. _"What?"_

The redhead didn't pay any attention to their exchange, instead pointing at Raleigh. "You there, you're Emily, right? There's someone here who wants to see you."

"Emily?" echoed a perplexed Charlie. "No, that's—"

"Whose asking?" asked Raleigh, cutting him off. It couldn't be _him_, could it? She'd been so sure that she got rid of the Welshman that night….

"Luke." Her stomach dropped. _Fuck. _He was here. This was her and Jenny's pub and he was here. _Just great…. _"He's just up there at the bar—I was talkin' to him."

Raleigh blinked in surprise, caught off guard. "Wait, sorry, you said were talking to Luke?" She lifted herself up to see over Margaret's head, and surveyed the bar curiously. "Big Welsh bloke, right?"

The woman laughed, but looked almost as confused as Raleigh's friends. "No," she said before pointing out the blonde haired man that she'd been speaking to. _"Luke_. You know, he came to London to see you…?"

That wasn't Luke.

Wondering how he knew about Luke and Emily, or if it was some strange cosmic twist, Raleigh happened to catch the man's eye as he surveyed the pub. He raised his pint to her, a familiar, crooked smile tugging one corner of his mouth higher than the other. And with that, it clicked.

"Move," she ordered Margaret, without thinking about how it sounded. "I need to go."

"Wait, what?!" demanded Jenny. "Who is that bloke?"

Kate leaned forward, her eyes wide with interest. "Raleigh, what are you doing?"

"Long story, we'll talk about it later," said Raleigh as she scrambled over Margaret's lap. It was the only other person who had been privy to Luke the Welshman's heroics and the thought of _him_ in a place that was so very much hers made Raleigh pine for the stupid Welshman.

* * *

><p>"You never did say where you was from," the woman slurred, inching closer to him.<p>

"I'm just visiting," said Loki, trying to ignore her.

"Mates or family or…?" she trailed off, raising a curious eyebrow, and then glanced in the same direction that he'd periodically look. She noticed the table of four girls and one young man. "Girlfriend?"

He began to deny it, but then stopped himself. A good story went a long way with Midgardians and their capacity for sympathy knew no bounds.

"It's complicated," he murmured, turning to the woman. She'd said her name was Clare. She attended university nearby and was finishing her final year. He didn't care and he would have told her to leave, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth and her breasts were nearly spilling out of the skintight dress she wore.

"Which one?" asked Clare. She exchanged a five pound note for a neon coloured drink and then looked back at the table. "The mousy looking one there in the back? She's a pretty thing."

"No, not the blonde. The other one, there," he said, gesturing so that she understood he was watching the brunette on the opposite side of the table. "That's her."

She stepped closer, her body nearly flush against his, and pretended to be getting a better look. He tried not to roll his eyes at the silliness. Of course he would rather fuck her than Raleigh. There was no need to be insecure.

"You like 'er? Like, d'you reckon she's The One?" He played his part, shifting uncomfortably, and thought to himself that her accent was grating. "You come down here to find 'er?"

He tried not to roll his eyes at the thought and instead worked his face into a sheepish mask, casting his gaze downwards with a heavy sigh. "I don't know," he lied. "She's…she's brilliant. And I'm…I'm a prat, really."

"Aw, mate, tell you what—I'm gonna do you a favour." He looked up quickly, his eyebrows rising. "Don't you try to tell me no, this is me bein' a good person. So, what's 'er name?"

"Emily," he said, furrowing his brow to look confused. "Why do you—" He broke off as Clare winked and turned, sauntering across the bar to Raleigh's table. Watching her go, he almost regretted the charade.

The rowdy table quieted at Clare's approach. She leaned across the table to get closer to Raleigh, and Loki swore he saw the blonde from the other night—Jenny, he thought—elbow the boy beside her. There was head shaking and Raleigh's friends began to question her was saying while Raleigh simply looked confused. Then, quieting the others, she sat up in the booth and looked around until she found what she was looking for.

He smiled when her eyes landed on him and was met first with shock, then horrified realisation, and finally anger.

Raleigh pushed her way out of the booth, ignoring her friends as they protested and tried to understand what was happening and made for where he stood. She'd only gone a few feet however, when Clare caught her by the arm and leaned in to whisper something in secret. Loki rolled his eyes at the exchange while Raleigh gave Clare a forced smile and pulled away.

_"What the hell are you doing?" _she demanded when she got close enough. "I'm with my friends!"

"Are you? I hardly noticed." She started to protest, her cheeks flushed with rage, and he said coolly, "I believe you and I made an arrangement, no?"

"It's eleven o'clock on a Friday night in the middle of November!" she spluttered. "And you want to talk _now?! _Now of all times?!"

"You've been avoiding me."

"You've been _unreachable_."

"And yet here I am," he said with a wave of his hand. "And you have no desire to speak with me."

"Because I'm _busy," _she hissed. "I can't be seen with you! You're—" Abruptly, as if realising she'd made a mistake, her expression softened and her shoulders relaxed. Her voice became quieter. "Why don't you look like…? Why aren't—" She faltered, her brow pulling together. "How'd you do this?"

He smirked. "Go get your things and come with me. I will explain everything once we're alone." Well, he would tell her the necessary details anyway. "Go, little one. We have much to discuss and—"

"Raleigh?" Loki broke off as the black girl from the table approached the pair. She glanced between them, adding, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"No, no, you're fine," he told her in the politest tone he could muster. He wanted to leave. "Not interrupting anything at all."

"It's fine, Margaret," Raleigh lied, looking from Loki to her friend and then back. "This is Luke. Luke, Margaret."

"Pleasure." He held out a hand, which was accepted with a firm shake. "I'm afraid I've been quite rude, taking Raleigh away from you all like that, but I simply had to speak to her."

Margaret regarded him carefully, her dark eyes glinting. "Your friend called her Emily, didn't she?"

"It's a joke, Mags," said Raleigh before Loki could respond. "Luke and I met the other morning. He was very rude and made me late, so he's just been offering to make it up by buying me a drink."

"Is that so?" An arched eyebrow. She didn't buy it. Not completely. "You're at King's, too?"

"Yes."

"Oh, how nice." Her enthusiasm was faked. "What are you studying?"

"Erm, space," Loki answered, saying the first thing that came to mind. "Extraterrestrial life, to be precise." He knew plenty about extraterrestrial life. Hell, he _was _extraterrestrial life. He switched gears, going on the offensive: "And you? I don't believe I've seen you around before?"

"Well, that's because I'm up in Scotland for university," she explained, smiling. She took Raleigh by the elbow and said, "You don't mind if I take Raleigh back for a second, do you?"

"No," he lied, shaking his head. "I don't mind a bit." He picked up his beer and watched as Margaret pulled Raleigh out of a human's earshot. He turned, resting his weight against the bar, and took a tentative sip as he listened to the two girls.

"Where did you meet him?" Margaret asked.

"The library. I was printing out a paper last minute and he jammed the stupid thing up—"

"You didn't meet him in a library."

"I did!"

"Look, I know plenty of astrophysicists. Collin works with some of them and I've had to go to dinner with them and drink together and I can tell you right now that none of them look even remotely like _that."_ She jabbed a finger in his direction. "Where'd you meet him really?"

"He's not an astrophysicist, he's an astrobiologist."

"Irrelevant. Answer my question."

"We met at the library. I _swear_." Silence and, when he peeked, a stern look with crossed arms from Margaret. Raleigh sighed and relented, explaining, "We…we met on the Tube the other night when I was coming home."

"What train?"

"You can't be serious."

"What train?"

"A southbound one on the Northern Line. Jesus Christ, Mags, did you want to check my travel history while we're at it?"

"Why did that bint call you Emily?"

_Bint…._ Good word. He'd have to use that one.

"It was a joke between him and I, I'll tell you some other time. It's not really funny unless you're in on it."

"And what does he _really_ do?"

"I told you already and so did he. He's going into astrobiology," said Raleigh. "You can't tell me that it's impossible for a scientist to be good looking, can you?"

"Well, no," conceded Margaret, "but he seemed a bit…_off."_

"Maybe because you put him on the spot and started asking questions right away?" suggested the other girl. "He's fine, Mags. Really."

Margaret chuckled knowingly. "You like him."

"What?" Raleigh sounded surprised. "What…no, no. Don't be ridiculous. I mean, yeah, he's all right, but he's an ass."

"And you _like_ him," her friend teased in a sing-song voice. "Oh, come on, Raleigh, don't be like that. He's fit."

Loki stole another look at the two girls and watched as Raleigh dragged her toe across the hardwood floor, avoiding Margaret's eye. Her cheeks were red.

"Raleigh."

"Maybe," she granted. Loki raised his eyebrows, not daring to believe how genuine she sounded. "_Maybe_ I like him. We've been talking a lot, but I don't know…."

"Ah, so _that's_ why he's shown up, is it? You texted him to come save the day, didn't you? You're bored." A sheepish murmur. "Kate's going to be _so pissed _when you bring him over, you know." Raleigh said something else that he didn't catch over a sudden roar of laughter to his right. When the men quieted, he was able to hear Margaret as she gasped, "Wait, you're leaving with him? _Now?"_

"Thinking about it."

"Well, don't just think about it, do it."

"What?!"

"You ought to go with him," Margaret said more firmly. "Really, Raleigh, you should. No one's going to blame you if you have a little fun."

"You can't be serious."

"I am," she insisted. "You know, I don't agree with Jenny's prescription of a good shag as a cure all, but all things considered…."

The girls continued to bicker between themselves playfully, each trying not to laugh at the other, while Loki kept his back to them and rolled his eyes. He wasn't desperate enough to bed Raleigh and he didn't plan to sink to that level anytime soon. At least The Bint had had a nice set of tits, he couldn't say that about his so-called assistant.

"All right, c'mon," Margaret said, taking her friend by the arm. "Let's go."

Turning to face them, Loki feigned delight and purred, "Welcome back. Nice chat?"

"Very," said Margaret and as she released her friend, she pushed the other girl towards him suggestively. "Raleigh was telling me that you two were just leaving. Don't let me keep you any longer then."

"Thank-you," he said, smiling politely. He looked to the brunette, adding, "Did you want to get your coat, pet?"

"Sure," said Raleigh, not sounding half as eager as Margaret. "I'll get right on that, _darling." _She slipped away, heading back to the table while Margaret lingered at his side, her hands tucked casually into her trouser pockets.

"So," she said after a beat, rocking back and forth on her heels, "you two off for a bit of late night fun?"

"Something like that," he replied evasively. "You'll have to forgive me, but I'm not one to kiss and tell."

"No pun intended, I'm sure," said Margaret with a smirk. "She's the same way. Raleigh, I mean. Never lets a thing slip about who she's seeing or what they're up to. What station was it that you two met in again?"

"Oh, no, we met _on _the Northern Line," he told her, feeling a strange mix of respect and dislike for the girl. She still didn't trust him or their story completely, even now. "Same carriage."

"With Jenny and Charlie?"

"No, just Raleigh."

"And it's somehow easier to say you met in a library?"

"She seems to believe it's more socially acceptable than admitting she was drunk off her ass." Margaret snorted. "Hm?"

"Nothing, just sounds like Raleigh," she said, shaking her head, but he could feel a palpable change in the air. He could imagine the sound of a hunting trap swinging shut—_Snap!—_its prey caught flailing. He'd made a misstep and Margaret had caught him. They were quiet for several, tense moments, watching as Raleigh continued her prolonged farewells. "So where are you from exactly?"

"Oxford." There had been a little box on Raleigh's bedside table with the name _University of Oxford _printed on its lid where she kept her jewellery.

"Huh." Margaret folded her arms across her chest, watching as Raleigh finally pulled on her coat and pawed a very drunk Kate away. "That's funny."

"And what makes you say that?"

"Well, the lot of us went to boarding school there," the girl explained, sweeping a coil of her reddish hair back from her face. "Me, Raleigh, Jenny, and Kate. That's how we met, you know. And you being from there and now ending up here, in the same city again, well it's just quite funny." He nodded along reminding himself that he was still in control. "It's almost kismet, wouldn't you say?"

Raleigh was coming back. _At last. _He couldn't imagine a time when he'd been happier to see her.

"Perhaps," he murmured as the girl drew near. He turned to Margaret and held out his hand, which Margaret shook politely once again. "It was lovely meeting you, Margaret."

"Same to you, Luke…" She hesitated. "You know, I never got your last name."

"O—Oliversen," he amended quickly, cursing himself. He'd nearly said _Odinson. _It'd been on the tip of his tongue. "Luke Oliversen."

"Well, it's been a pleasure, Luke Oliversen," said Margaret, her dark eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled. "Hope to see you around." She turned to Raleigh, saying playfully, "I'll give you a text when we're all on our way back that way you've got some time to clean up."

Raleigh smiled and quickly hugged her friend to hide her strained expression. "Thanks, Mags."

"Have fun."

"Definitely," she said, pulling back. "See you later."

"Yeah, give me a shout when you're in if you've got the time," instructed Margaret with a suggestive wink. She glanced over her shoulder at Loki and added, "See you around, Luke." And then, with a final squeeze of Raleigh's shoulder, she was gone.

* * *

><p>Raleigh shivered, shoving her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat as she made her way down the street beside Loki. The cold air was sobering, but—here and there—she caught herself breathing just a bit deeper so that she could watch with childlike glee as a mist rose before her.<p>

Eventually, when they were well away from the pub, she began to speak, "I get that you need my help and all, but I don't suppose there's any chance I could have Fridays off, is there?"

"No," he said and he shook his head. "You will come when I call."

She frowned. "That makes me sound like a dog."

"And you think yourself better than a dog?"

"That's not the point."

"And what is?"

"I'm a person and I deserve respect, I don't deserve to be talked down to and treated like some sort of animal." Her indignant tone made him laugh and she began to glower. "I mean it!"

"You seem to be forgetting that in this situation, I hold all the power," he replied. "If you do not help me, there will be grave consequences for you and your loved ones. I'm sure you would hate for your darling friend back there—what was her name? Minnie?—to die because for your arrogance."

She rounded on him sharply, stopping in her tracks. "Don't threaten my friends."

"Or what?

"I-I don't know, but just leave them out of this, all right?" Raleigh asked. "They haven't done anything wrong and I'm helping you, just like you asked me to do. So just…just stop threatening to kill everybody."

He sneered. "You want me to stop reminding you of a very ugly truth, but you have no just cause for me to spare your feelings. Yes, I suppose that makes perfect sense, doesn't it?" He began to walk and Raleigh, seething, hurried after.

"Where are you going?" she asked, changing the topic. "Or, rather, where are _we_ going and why should I trust you?"

_"We_ are going to the train station, _you_ will take me home with you, and _I _will leave you there after we discuss the matter of the Book." She sighed in aggravation and he added, "You have no reason to be afraid while I am with you, Raleigh. No harm will befall you under my watch."

She arched an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay, excuse me if I'm a bit sceptical about that. The guy who blew up half of New York is suddenly looking out for my best interests? Sure, and the moon is made out of cheese."

_"What?"_ asked Loki, looking genuinely confused. "Your moon isn't made out of cheese, even you should know that and you're painfully dull…."

"Sarcasm," Raleigh said, cutting him off. "Humans use it, too."

"Clearly not very well." He turned a corner with Raleigh, explaining, "I have no intention of allowing harm to befall you for as long as you are in my employ. You do for me and I will return that loyalty with my protection."

_My hero_, she wanted to snark at him, but instead she remained quiet and mulled over his answer. So for as long as she stayed in his good graces, he would keep an eye out for her. It was simultaneously nice and fucking creepy, if she thought about it. On one hand, she could feasibly do anything she wanted—like walk around the worst parts of London in the dead of night—and know that she wasn't going to end up worse for wear, but on the other, she had to deal with _him _and he was such a peach... She wasn't so sure that all the freedom in the world was worth having him for company.

"How'd you do it?" she asked, again changing the topic of conversation. When he tilted his head to the side in a silent question, she added, "Well, you know, _that."_ And she pointed to the thick, dark blond hair that he'd disguised himself with. "How'd you do that?"

"Magic."

"Magic's not real," she countered almost automatically. "There's no such thing."

Loki shrugged. "If you say so."

"Well, isn't it?" she prompted, taking the bait and frowning deeply. "It's all science in the end. We've proven there's no such thing. It's an illusion."

"You may tell yourself whatever you please, Raleigh."

"Wait," she said, trying hard not to laugh. "You're _serious?_ You really think that what you're doing is magic?"

He arched an eyebrow and said, "Explain it scientifically then."

"I-I dunno," she said hesitantly and he smiled. It was almost more fun to watch her struggle than put her down. "Maybe you bent light or something…or you bought hair a wig and contacts at a costume store."

"You could at least try to be creative with your answer," said Loki before he ignored the sharp sting of pain in his chest and changed his hair from curly and blond to a pin-straight dark grey. He stopped under a streetlight, watching with smug satisfaction as Raleigh marvelled at the change, stunned into silence. "Quite the wig, wouldn't you say?"

She was breathless. "How'd you do it?"

"I've told you already," he replied. "Magic."

"But—"

"Think what you like, but I can assure you that there are things far beyond human understanding in the universe. It would do you well to put aside the pesky narrow-mindedness of your people now, it will make our time together significantly more tolerable if you do."

Raleigh frowned, watching as he changed his hair back to blond, and then fell into step beside him when he began to walk. She was absorbed in her thoughts, head bent to the wind, and she ignored Loki when he turned to look as the different shop fronts and to get a better look at the passerby.

"Wait a minute." She stopped walking and looked up at him, and he came to a slow halt to face her with an arched brow.

"Yes?"

"You were following me the other night, you said so." He nodded, watching as her eyes grew wider and she took a cautious step forward. She raised an accusatory finger. "You knew about Luke and Emily. You were in the Tube station afterwards." Another nod and he began to ask where this was going, but she hurried on, "You can make yourself invisible and you can change your appearance so that nobody knows you're you. So tell me the truth, were you Luke from Wales?"

He smiled. "Perhaps you aren't entirely hopeless after all."

"You asshole!" And before she could stop herself, she took another step forward and shoved him angrily. "You arranged it all, didn't you?! The cab? The crowd?!" Loki laughed and white-hot anger lashed at her insides. "I could've died! I could've been hit by that cab and died! You absolute _fuck twat!"_

He caught her by the wrists as she attempted to pummel his chest and held firm while she howled with rage, kicking at him instead. "Shut up, Raleigh," he ordered as a group passed, giving them strange looks and pointing. "You're attracting attention."

"You tried to _murder_ me!"

"I wasn't going to kill you, for the love of the Nine!" he snarled, gritting his teeth. "But if you don't _shut up_, I may soon reconsider that promise."

She quieted, twisting away, and folded her arms across her chest. Her face was flushed with colour and she tried to calm her breath by pressing her lips into a thin line and breathing through her nose. Inside, a barely restrained fury bubbled in the pit of her belly and she wanted to scream. She wanted to tell everyone the truth: _he's a madman, he's a murderer, he's holding me hostage!_ What would he do then? Kill everyone here? He couldn't afford to draw attention to himself, could he?

But she held her tongue, remembering that if he got away—and she was sure that he would—it would be her family and friends that would pay.

"Why?" she finally asked, her voice quivering with rage. "Why would you do that?"

"I needed to get your attention somehow," he explained, watching her carefully. He glanced around to make sure that the other mortals had left and then continued, "You wouldn't speak to me in your shop, I had no choice. You were never in any real danger, Raleigh, and you certainly wouldn't have been hit. As I've told you, no harm will befall—"

Her laugh was mirthless. "Oh, well, excuse me if I find it a bit hard to believe that the guy who tried to take over the world and killed a bunch of people just like me has my best interests at heart."

"I needed a mortal's help and I chose you," he told her flatly. He had neither the time nor the patience to try dealing with a teenage girl's emotions. "I will protect you for as long as I have need of you."

Her eyebrows rose and she made an indignant noise. "I don't _need_ your protection and I don't want it either. I do just fine on my own, thank-you very much and I have done for quite a while." She began to walk away from him backwards, towards the Tube station in the distance, and shook her head emphatically. "Sorry I'm not jumping for joy, but—" She stepped on a shoelace and tumbled backwards, landing on the pavement with a sharp cry. _"Damn it!"_

He laughed. "Oh yes," he said, nodding. "You're truly a fearsome sight to behold." He advanced on where she sat, grimacing and tying her shoelaces, and added dryly, "I'm quivering at the very threat of your power."

"Do you _ever_ shut up?"

* * *

><p><em>The truth,<em> Loki thought, _was much uglier than a lie. _

At least he told himself as much, as he had for centuries now. It was far easier to lie by omission than confess a truth that no one wanted to hear.

He glanced at his reflection in the opposite window of the train car and allowed his gaze to slip towards Raleigh, who sat beside him stiffly. She was looking away from him pointedly, her posture almost statuesque, and he resisted the urge to laugh at her. _So stupid..._

Once he had the Book of Ullr in his grasp, he would leave her alone. Her family and friends would be safe or as safe as one could hope under the circumstances. None of that had been a lie.

Loki had omitted one detail though, and a very important one at that.

He was going to kill her.

* * *

><p>Saturday dawned cold and grey. Loki, who had left shortly before the return of Raleigh's friends and after coming to an agreement on a plan of action, again found himself joined by the mortal girl. They walked from her flat towards the Tube station in silence, weaving around strangers and passing rows of almost identical terraced houses. Raleigh smoked while Loki held his breath. He'd opted for a slightly more natural appearance that morning: shorter, though not as slim, with dark hair and his own sharp features, and brilliant blue eyes that made Raleigh give him a double take.<p>

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, she asked, "Do you drink coffee? Or, you know, is that not a thing where you're from?"

"There is no such thing as coffee on Asgard," Loki told her curtly before he began to hold his breath again.

"Well, that's unfortunate for you then," she said as she flicked the end of her cigarette into the damp street—blessed relief, thank Odin—and then pointed at the Costa Coffee just ahead of them. "Anyway, I need some, especially if I'm spending my day with you. So if you want to try it, feel free to speak up now."

"What is it?" he asked, hoping to not betray his genuine curiosity. He'd heard of coffee. Thor had developed a fondness for the drink during his time on Earth and many of the mortals that Loki had employed previously also drank it.

"It's a drink."

He rolled his eyes. "Very informative."

"It's a hot drink and it has caffeine in it, which helps to keep you awake and increases focus. You're supposed to drink it when you need a pick-me-up."

"And you like it?"

"It's all right, some places have better coffee than others," she explained with a shrug. "I go to this one before with Jenny fairly often and they're all right. They burn it sometimes so it's not amazing coffee, you know?"

Loki grunted, unsure of how to properly respond.

"Tea and hot chocolate have caffeine in them, too," she added, "but I'd wait until we see a Paul's to get hot chocolate as theirs is always the best."

"Is that right?" he asked, not really caring about who had what and if it was better than someone else's. He'd be gone soon enough and wouldn't need to worry about Midgardian food and drink or their customs or questionable tap water.

"Do you have chocolate in space?"

Another eye roll. She was being impertinent now. "No," he said, "I don't believe we do."

"There's no chocolate on Asgard?!" Loki shushed her and she lowered her voice, looking genuinely shocked. "Wait, you're not kidding? You've _never_ had chocolate before?"

"I don't believe so."

"Well, why not?" she asked, pulling the cafe's door open.

He walked in first, waiting for her to join him before he said, "Why would I? Your people's vikings had a culture very similar to ours and they had none of this chocolate as far as I know."

Raleigh looked thoughtful as they joined the queue and then shook her head. "I don't think they had it either. Cocoa beans grow quite far south…"

"There you have it, and it's not native to Asgard. I would know if it was."

Raleigh started to ask another question, but they'd reached the front of the line and were greeted by a broad chested man with a red apron draped across his front.

"What can I get for you today?" he asked, smiling at them.

They exchanged a look: Raleigh lifted her eyebrows in a silent question while Loki looked disgusted and gave a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Can I get a medium flat white and a hot chocolate, also medium?" she asked the coffee servant. She looked back at Loki, prompting, "Do you want marshmallows or cream?" He lifted his eyebrows at her as if to say, _really?_ and his expression darkened slightly. "All right, suit yourself. Nothing but the cocoa in that, please."

He watched in silence as Raleigh paid for the drinks and then stepped aside with her for the next customers to place their order.

"Why did you do that?" he asked as they waited.

"Do what?" He gave her a pointed look. "Oh. Well, you know, I figure that you shouldn't die without having chocolate at least once, even if you're from another planet or whatever…. So if you hate it, at least you tried it."

He resisted the urge to make a snide comment and instead took the opportunity to glance around the little shop. It wasn't crowded at all, which was a change of pace. He noted the various baked goods and sandwiches that were on display, the cases filled with cold drinks, desserts, and fruit…and, he wondered, what on earth were toasties?

"Have you eaten yet today?" asked Raleigh, who had been watching him inspect the cafe's wares.

"I don't see how that concerns you."

"And I don't see how the question is problematic. I'm offering to buy you food—what do you want?" He started to shake his head, not wanting any more of her kindness or to eat more horrible Midgardian food, but his stomach chose that moment to growl and she smiled knowingly. "Go on and pick something out, it's my treat."

Loki sighed, looking back at the food in the display case and then at the menu, trying to ignore how aggravated he felt. He shouldn't be complaining. The girl, for all her faults, was being generous with him and he supposed he ought to appreciate that, since he hadn't stopped threatening to kill her yet.

"This." He pointed to a small, lumpy piece of bread with dark blue spots.

Raleigh peered around him to see what he was looking at: a blueberry muffin.

"Anything hot?" she asked. "They've got breakfast sandwiches, you know. Bacon, ham and egg, the breakfast roll isn't so bad—I've had it a few times—or a toastie, even?"

If he were honest with her, this was shaping up to be his first proper meal in days. Pride and inexperience in the kitchen had kept him to eating microwavable soups in the flat that Amora had arranged for him. Of course, he wasn't going to be honest with her. She didn't need to know that he had scalded himself or spent his evenings picking over wet noodles in tasteless broth.

"The ham and egg," he said after a couple moments of thought.

"One or two?"

"Two."

"And nothing else?" He shook his head. "All right." She disappeared from his side, going to collect their hot drinks, which she handed over upon returning. "The one in your left is yours. The other is mine. Don't drink it right away or you'll burn yourself." And without another word, she retreated to the end of the line that had been gradually forming while Loki was left to find a table.

He moved a safe distance away and settled down at a small table near the back of the cafe in the seat facing the doors. He placed Raleigh's coffee on the table and then leaned back in his chair, wrapping both hands around his drink to better feel its warmth.

He almost felt sorry for the girl. She thought with her heart, trusted him blindly, and what would he reward her kindness with? Death. At least she would be easy to control in the meantime.

Raleigh eventually joined him, bringing with her a tray that had two steaming hot sandwiches and the lumpy bread. She set down the tray and took the seat opposite him, producing a piece of fruit from her pocket with a flourish of her hand.

_"Bon appetit,"_ she said mockingly.

Loki began to eat, watching as Raleigh pulled the lid off of her coffee cup and emptied two packets of sugar into the liquid. She set them aside, beginning to stir her drink, and caught his eye.

"Sugar," she explained. "It makes the coffee sweeter."

"We have sugar on Asgard," he said before taking another bite of his sandwich. It was fresh, but scalding. He burnt his tongue on the ham and eggs, which were too warm to even taste, but he continued to scarf it down and didn't bother minding his manners.

"Do you want some of my orange?" she asked, setting her stirrer aside.

He shook his head, then gestured at a bottle of water on the tray. "Is this for me?"

"Yes," she said, nodding once. "In case you hate that." She pointed at the hot chocolate which was still too hot to drink, and began to peel her fruit.

Loki picked up the bottle and twisted the cap away, taking a cautious sip. It didn't taste anywhere near as terrible as the tap water he'd been drinking.

"So am I allowed to ask questions?"

He paused, almost finished with his first sandwich, and considered her for a second. "I suppose," he said hesitantly. "But it would all depend upon the question, or whether I'm able to ask my own."

"That's fine, you can ask questions. I've got nothing to hide."

"How do you manage in this city on your own?" he asked. "I've been here for two weeks and it appears that the only way one can enjoy himself is if he's dishonest."

"Or you're well off," she said with a small laugh. "Which I am."

"Well off?"

"Yes." Raleigh nodded and turned her attention to the orange, picking at its rind with her fingers and discarding it on a napkin. "My father is pretty high up in an engineering firm in New York so he's always made good money and, erm, he's always been happy to support me. His family is quite wealthy independent of that—oil and that sort of thing."

He finished the first sandwich and moved on to the second. "And your mother?"

"She's an art historian, not especially wealthy, but her family is somehow related to someone in the Peerage, as if it matters anymore. Her and my grandparents are really well-educated…" She began to pull the orange apart and the smell of citrus filled the air as she broke the delicate skin of a carpel. "They haven't got any titles and that money is almost completely gone, but they talk like they do. Compared to my dad's family, they're not that wealthy at all."

"And your father's family is in oil?"

"My great-grandfather and his brother got into oil early and made millions. He took control of one of the companies after Standard Oil broke up, which one of his sons took over later, but his other son—my grandfather—became a banker and married into an old, influential banking family."

"And collectively, they all made enough to carry your family for generations?"

She smirked. "Between the trust and all of the stocks and the real estate that are in my name or I'm set to inherit, I'll never have to work a day in my life unless I want to," she said. Her mouth twisted slightly as she spoke, "My trust fund alone is seven figures, my brother's is, too. And all of my cousins get an equal share of their own, which matures with every generation that passes. It's very complicated and I haven't learnt it all myself just yet, but I've never wanted for anything and I've always had the best..." She shrugged and went back to dissecting her orange. "It's all right, I guess."

He set down his sandwich, genuinely surprised. Amora hadn't mentioned this part. "You only guess?"

"Well, you're a Prince, right?" He nodded. "Have you ever thought that people just wanted to be your friend because of that? Like, they don't care about who you are as much as they care about what you are?"

"I suppose," Loki answered evasively, not wanting to admit that yes, more than one childhood friendship had ended in flames for that very reason.

"Of course you have, because wherever there's money or power or glory, there are inevitably people who want it for their own gains or just to reap the benefits. When I was younger, in high school and after I moved to Cambridge to live with my mum, I had a couple of friends who found out about my family's money and started to expect things."

"I don't know that I understand."

"Okay, so, I had this friend from middle school named Sara. Well, we only really became friends in the last year or so of middle school and when I moved here to live with my mum and stepdad in Cambridge, Sara found out—through mutual friends of ours that I'd known for much longer—that my family had quite a bit of money. So she started to drop hints that she wanted really expensive stuff, or to come here for a holiday and wondering why I wouldn't just come back on school breaks and leave when the day before they were over. And when we did hang out, she'd always expect me to pay for everyone's dinner or she'd pick up a hat—in, like, The Gap of all places—and she'd complain that she didn't have the money and would want me to front her."

"And buying hats from The Gap is beneath you?"

Raleigh's expression soured and he sniggered.

"It's not that it's beneath me, it's the principle of the matter. Just because my family's rich doesn't mean that people should just _expect_ me to do for them. Yeah, if someone needs something I'll always try to do for them and I like buying dinners for my friends or gifts or whatever, but it's rude to just _expect_ me to do it especially when someone's capable of handling it on their own. I mean…when you go on a date, I dunno if it's the same in Asgard, but people always seem to expect the man to pay on Earth."

"We have a similar practise in courting," Loki supplied.

"Then you probably know that some men don't want to pay, right?" He shrugged apathetically. "Well, I'll assume that _you_ don't since you're such a peach to begin with, but anyway, then there are some women want to pay for their date. And everyone _always_ complains when they're put on the spot to pay. Maybe not to the other person's face, but still. Nobody likes when their date just sits there and expects them to pay for dinner—man or woman. It's different when someone offers to get their card out and you wave them off. It's not rude."

"You have perfected the rich girl's lament, I suspect," said Loki, smiling at her. Raleigh looked like she wanted to slap the sandwich out of his hands, so he added, "No, I do understand how it might be upsetting to be put on the spot."

She nodded, her expression softening and popped a piece of orange into her mouth. "Once," she recalled, swallowing, "when I was sixteen, my grandmother—on my dad's side—wanted to talk to me and she said, 'I see you're starting to date,' because I had. I was really good friends with the guy since we were kids, but my grandmother didn't like me dating him. So I told her yes, and she told me, 'Well, you know, Raleigh, you mustn't think of this as a longterm arrangement. It simply isn't proper for someone of our status.'"

"And why didn't she care for him?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"His family wasn't like mine. He's the first person on his dad's side to have been born in America and they're all blue-collar—not very wealthy, that is. He never went to any sort of prep schools, he was in the Army and didn't go to university…. My grandmother always thought of him as being _low _and that he was dating me for my money."

Loki took a bite of his sandwich, mulling over the answer. "Was he?"

"No," she said firmly and she shook her head, eating another piece of orange. "He wasn't. He's never asked me for anything, actually. He always hated when I would buy him things or offer to cover for him. But my grandmother kept insisting that I was making a mistake because he knew all about my trust and—" Her voice turned acerbic. "—really, who _wouldn't_ want to marry me then?"

"I wouldn't, if it's any consolation."

She struggled with herself, trying to resist a smile, and then rolled her eyes at him. "No, I suppose that you would sooner kill me than marry me."

"Something like that," he replied, returning her smile. "Have you found any other potential suitors then? You do seem to attract your fair share of attention, for whatever reason."

"I'm so flattered that you noticed when men ogle me," she said dryly. "And no, I haven't seen anyone since I broke up with my last boyfriend. But Jenny was _very_ excited that you showed up when you did last night to whisk me off in the middle of everything. She thinks we had sex."

He choked on a mouthful of food and dissolved into a coughing fit.

"That was pretty much my reaction, too."

"Didn't—" _cough_ "—you—" _cough_ "—tell—" _cough_ "—them—" _cough _"—otherwise?"

Raleigh tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing. "And what was I supposed to say exactly?" she asked, handing over a second napkin when he crumpled the first in his hand. "'Hey, guys, by the way, Luke from the pub was actually a crazy murderer from another planet and I'm helping him out'? I don't think so."

"Of course not," Loki snapped, scowling at the girl, "but you could've—at the very least—told them that we hadn't slept together rather than allowed them to believe otherwise."

"Well, if you didn't want them believing that, then you should've said something when Margaret was insinuating it to your face!"

He set his sandwich down and leaned towards Raleigh, warning, "Do not test me."

"Okay, no, we're not doing this again," she said, shaking her head. "We are in public, I'm spending the day with you, and I just bought you food. No threatening me—at least for a few hours, all right?" Loki rolled his eyes, but she insisted, "I mean it."

"And why should I listen to you?"

"Because if you keep threatening me like you do, you're going to draw attention to us and to yourself. You want to be inconspicuous, right? Well then, you've got to knock it off. Inconspicuous people get shit done and if you make a scene, we won't have any luck. Now, drink your hot chocolate and stop glaring at me. There'll be plenty of time to threaten me later."

Sighing deeply, he raised the cup to his lips and took his first tentative sip of hot chocolate. It was a full, delicately sweet flavour that blossomed in his mouth with a rich, velvety texture.

Raleigh smiled as he set the cup back down, but refused to let go, caught between wanting more to eat and having a second drink. "You like it, don't you?"

The corners of his mouth quirked. Chocolate might've been better than the sandwich, if not the best thing he'd had on Midgard yet.

"Well?" she pressed, discarding her orange to sit forward and stare at him questioningly.

"It's all right," he said at last. Her smile widened. "No, no, absolutely not. I won't eat anymore of your Midgardian food. This was a fluke and—"

"You can't survive on eggs and chocolate!"

He could. Well, he could if he knew how to make eggs and chocolate. "I said no."

"I'm going to get you to try something else, you know," she said. "Just watch."

"I would love to see you try."

* * *

><p>"Okay, how about fish and chips?"<p>

"No."

"Bangers and mash?"

"No."

"Hmm, what about shepherd's pie?"

"I keep telling you no."

"Fine, a hamburger. Or, hell, even a _cheeseburger!" _Raleigh wheedled. "Come on! Be adventurous, Luke, _live a little._"

"For the last time, _no." _Loki sighed with exasperation while Raleigh strolled alongside him with her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans. "Have you finished then?"

"Not even close." Her face suddenly lit up. "Oooh! I bet that you'd like ramen! There's a place in Soho…."

"Enough," he insisted, quieting her with a wave of his hand. "Enough already."

She huffed as they came to a halt on the street corner and then looked him over once, judging his new disguise with a critical eye.

"Charlie's nose is bigger," she commented.

"I realise this may come as a surprise to you," he drawled, "but I don't give a damn."

"Fine," Raleigh said, frowning. She reached into her bag and handed over the ID that she had stolen from Charlie's wallet that morning before leaving the flat. "You're going to need to magic yourself up one of these, you know. I can't just steal Charlie's whenever you want to go someplace that needs ID." The light changed, signalling that it was okay to use the crosswalk, and they began to move again. "And stop frowning. Charlie doesn't frown."

"Shut up, Raleigh."

"Don't tell me to shut up," she started to quibble as she turned sharply to the right with Loki in tow and dragged him through a large courtyard, past a large bronze statue of a man, and to the library's entrance. "I'm helping you."

"Is Charlie famous?"

"No."

"Does anyone here know Charlie by name?"

"No, but—"

"Well then Charlie can frown because he's miserable today."

"Are you implying that you're miserable because you're stuck with me?" He gave her a pointed look and she scowled. "That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be."

She continued to needle and pick at Loki as they entered the British Library's doors and checked in at the main desk, drawing amused smiles from middle-aged woman who took their passes. Once their library passes were in hand again, the two made their way through the gates, stored Raleigh's non-permissible items in a locker and discarded their coats, and then set off to the main rooms.

It had been Raleigh's suggestion to come here. She'd figured that if there was anywhere you could find a book—or just the hint of a rare and magical book—it would be the British Library. Loki, after learning that it was one of the largest libraries on Earth, with countless, priceless texts and relics, had agreed.

So she was more than a little proud of herself as she led Loki through the different rooms, watching from the corner of her eye as he marvelled at the sight of all the books and the different levels.

"Not bad, huh?" she asked eventually.

He nodded, falling back into step beside her as they made their way towards a row of computers in the reading room, and admitted, "It's quite remarkable for Midgardians."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, it felt like a compliment."

They sat down together, with Raleigh bringing up a search form on the computer as she asked, "So what's the name of this magical book again?"

"The Book of Ullr."

"O-o-double-l-r-u-h?"

"U-l-l-r."

"Got it." She typed the query into the search bar, hit the return key, and watched as a page of results appeared. "Okay, well, it says here that Ullr was a Norse god and that he had a magical bone…" She snorted and caught Loki's eye. "Oh, what, come on. That's hilarious."

"How is that amusing?"

Her smile fixed. "You're kidding."

"No. Now carry on," he motioned to the screen, explaining, "Ullr did have a bone, which he carved magical runes into. Over time, as he grew older and other sorcerers grew in power, he had to protect his magic, and so he used a spell to transfigure the bone into a book. Its spine is the original bone and its pages are the flesh of his enemies bound by their hair."

"What the fuck."

Loki shrugged, nonchalant. "It's the truth."

"That's some kind of Edgar Allen Poe shit."

"Who?"

"Never mind, just…you guys are really messed up," said Raleigh as she turned back to the screen, shaking her head. She began to sort through the results, frowning, and after searching through several pages typed a new query into the search bar: RUNES + BOOK + SCANDINAVIA.

The new results loaded after she clicked the search button and she began to scroll again, this time with Loki peering over her shoulder.

"This one," he said, pointing to one of the articles listed on the computer screen. "Look at that one."

"_Shamanism and Magic in Pre-Christian Norse Culture_ by Dr. Edmund Quinn," Raleigh read aloud, her brow furrowing. "You sure this is what you want?"

"Yes." He nodded. "Open it."

She did, unable to shake the feeling that she'd heard the name of its author before. She didn't know where, of course, but she'd heard it. Maybe he was a professor at her university….

Together, they read through the abstract of the paper and then the article itself. Raleigh skimmed over the text, looking to see what she could find about runes and magic, while Loki searched the pages for any hint of a book resembling the one he searched for.

It was very dry as far as Raleigh was concerned. It dealt primarily with the rituals of the ancient Norse, how these practises evolved, and their varying beliefs. Loki, on the other hand, found it amusing and occasionally made an offhanded comment about why the author was wrong in his reasoning.

When they had finished, Raleigh said, "I don't think that this is what we were looking for."

"No," he agreed, watching with interest as she scrolled back to the top of the article. "Though, I do wonder, how well versed is this author in Norse culture?"

"Do you want me to look him up?" asked Raleigh, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She swiped into her Internet browser and typed in Edmund Quinn's name. "Well, it says here that Edmund Quinn is an archaeologist who specialises in Norse artefacts and teaches at Oxford."

"Go on."

She sighed, tapping on the link to a biography about Quinn, and began to read. "Born in London in 1938, educated at Harrow and Cambridge, where he received a PhD. He's done excavations throughout Scandinavia, speaks multiple languages, oh wait. Hang on."

She scrolled back up and then began to read from a passage: _"In 1974, a group of British and Danish archaeologists uncovered a site in modern day Norway that they believe to have been the site of an Iron Age battle and early Nordic settlement. Among the artefacts recovered were weapons including axes and swords, and items that archaeologists believe were used for Shamanic rituals. __Pre-Christian Norsemen were noted for their pagan faith and utilised a number of items to carry out spiritual rituals, such as skins, staffs, talismans, and—" _Raleigh broke off. "That's weird."

"What is?" Loki asked, moving closer to see over her shoulder.

"It says that the team found a book," she explained, her brow puckering in the middle. "But it's just…it's weird, you know? During this time, I don't know that these people would've had books; they weren't Christian yet and most literate people were church officials. So it's just…a book is out of place."

Loki unceremoniously plucked the phone from her hands and began to read the biography with interest, while Raleigh folded her arms across her chest and watched. He read the article twice more before he set her phone aside and leaned back in her seat, looking thoughtful.

"So is that it?" she asked slowly. "That book is the book we're looking for?"

"I believe it may be," he said, his brow furrowing. "Do you know where these items are being kept?"

"Well, it said something about Tønsberg and Copenhagen—" She picked her phone up to check and then quoted,"—_among others. _That's where artefacts that his excavation teams recovered went: Copenhagen and Tønsberg, among others. So maybe there?" She shrugged and shook her head. "I couldn't tell you for sure, Loki."

"Shouldn't we go then?"

Raleigh almost fell out of her seat in shock. "To Scandinavia? No, we shouldn't go to Scandinavia. You don't have a passport and I can't just run away from my responsibilities." His eyes narrowed, but she was emphatic, "No, I mean it! I can't and I won't go. I can't miss school and who knows how long we'd be there for! I told you earlier that we've got to be inconspicuous and that I can't just do this sort of thing on a whim and I meant it."

"Then what do you propose we do?"

"I…I'm not sure. Maybe I can find some more information on Quinn and get in contact with him. If he's still teaching at Oxford, I could go there for a weekend or…" she trailed off, thinking better of the rest of her statement.

"Or what?"

"No, it's stupid. It's better if we just focus on Quinn and—"

"What were you going to say?" demanded Loki quietly.

She considered him for a moment, biting her lip roughly, and then conceded, "Okay, look, my grandmother—my mum's mum—her and my granddad went to Cambridge around the same time as Quinn. They were archaeologists too, and they always knew a lot of really famous researchers, so there's a chance that they might've known this Quinn bloke. If I can't get in touch with him through normal channels, I'll go see my gran and I'll see if she knows anything about this whole book of runes or how to get the guy's attention."

"And you will take me with you when you go to see your grandmother."

"But—"

"This isn't open for debate," he told her firmly. "Should you go to meet her, I will accompany you. Do you believe that I am foolish enough to trust you alone? That you won't tell her what you're really doing?"

Raleigh bristled at the accusation and leaned towards him, hissing, "And if I told her, you'd kill her. So do you really think I see any merit in telling my grandmother the truth about this situation?"

"You will bring me with you."

"You're not any good at pretending to be nice, you're terrible at it. So no, I won't bring you because she'll see right through you."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "What more do you need than this?" he asked, gesturing towards Charlie's face. "I am able to change my shape at will and I am very capable of being persuasive. I have no—"

"Look, if I take you, do you know what she's going to think?" demanded Raleigh, trying to keep her voice to a furious whisper. "She's going to think that we're dating. I bring boyfriends to meet my family, not strange men who mean nothing to me. So unless you're going to do a sudden reversal on your earlier opinion, I'm not bringing you."

"You certainly enjoy leading other Midgardians to believe that we're courting, don't you?" he mocked scathingly.

"Don't flatter yourself. If I bring you, you have to promise to at least be civilised, okay? If she finds out, it's all over. Everybody dies. You get outed. The authorities come looking for you. That's exactly how it will go."

Loki frowned and lightly strummed his fingers on the desk. "We will continue this discussion later," he said after a beat. Motioning to the computer, he continued, "Tell me what else you can find from Quinn on there."

With a sigh, Raleigh turned back to the screen and began to type again.

* * *

><p>Several hours later, after much searching and nagging, Raleigh seated herself across from Loki at a narrow table in a packed pub. Handing a pint of beer to him, she sipped a bottle of hard cider and considered him and their surroundings before she said, "So are you ever going to tell me why you're back on Earth?"<p>

"I'm not sure that that's really any of your business."

"You said I could ask questions so long as you got to ask about me in return," she replied. "So this is my first question."

"And why are you suddenly so curious about me?"

"Well, I don't know," the girl hedged, taking another drink of her cider. "I just always thought—well, actually most people do really—that you'd be, well, _you know_."

He didn't know and so he arched one dark brow at her questioningly.

"Weren't you in prison or something? After New York, I mean? Didn't they stick you somewhere?" Raleigh bit on her lower lip nervously and stole another look around their table to make sure they weren't about to be overheard before she added, "After the Avengers…."

"Asgard saw to my punishment," Loki said coldly. "Not Midgard." She relaxed at the explanation, clearly relieved. "Surely you must've noticed by now that your people and their methods would be ineffective against one such as myself, no?"

"Well, what's so different about Asgardian prison compared to, say, Gitmo?"

"Magic."

Raleigh scoffed, nearly slopping cider down her front. She ignored Loki's bemused expression and instead asked, "So is that your go to answer for everything? Magic?"

"Only where applicable."

Talking to him reminded Raleigh of pulling teeth. It was an arduous, painful, and frustrating experience. He was anything but friendly and far from forthcoming…. They both took sips of their drinks—with Loki wrinkling his nose at the taste—and when they had set them aside, Raleigh tried again.

"I've got to be completely honest with you, I don't see how London is meant to be much of a punishment for someone."

"To someone such as yourself, I should imagine not," he murmured, idly wiping at the condensation that had formed on the side of his pint.

"You mean someone that's human."

"Yes, someone who has never been to Asgard."

"Well, what's so much better about it?" asked Raleigh, feeling a little offended.

Even his laughter was condescending. "You can't possibly mean that," he said, furrowing his brow at her. "You people are so small-minded and simple, you have no imagination, no culture, and least of all any taste." He held up his beer for emphasis and Raleigh exhaled sharply through her nose, shaking her head. "What's that? Do you not agree?"

"Well, is everyone on Asgard as up their own arse as you?"

He sobered at once. "If an Asgardian feels superior to a Midgardian, it is not without just cause."

"Well, that's a non-answer," she snapped irritably. "You barely know anything about Earth. How can you sit here and say that it's stupid and you don't like it when you didn't even know what coffee was this morning?"

"Do not question me, mortal."

"Fine, but if you hate Earth—and us—so much, why come back? Why not go somewhere else or just stay up there on Planet Perfect?"

"I had no say in where I was sent to carry out my penance," Loki told her coolly. "The All-Father has an interesting sense of humour with these things; rather than send me to a world where I might dwell in anonymity, he chose to cast me down to the one place where it is almost guaranteed that every single one of you wants me dead."

Raleigh smirked. "Well, you're not wrong about that."

"Believe you me, I would much rather be fucking my way back to the All-Father's good graces on Alfheim than be stuck on this rock for another day."

"So poetic," mocked she, who was beginning to feel thoroughly disgusted by her 'date.' How he managed to seduce anyone with his personality was beyond her. "So, let me get this straight. You got sent back here by the All-Father…that's Odin, right?"

Loki nodded. "You've been reading that book again, have you?"

"Once or twice," she replied, hoping to downplay her interest in the myths. "So then Odin is King and since you're a Prince, that makes him your dad, doesn't it?" He gave her a withering look and Raleigh immediately went on the defensive: "It was a question!"

"It was a waste of my time," he snarled, relishing the way her cheeks flooded with colour. "If you had any sense you might be able to come up with the answer yourself."

"I'm just trying to understand, that's all!" she said indignantly. "I don't want to ask you inane things, but it's not like you're the most forthcoming person and if we're meant to be friends—"

"We are not friends," Loki said, silencing her. "Nor will we ever be friends, is that understood? I have no interest in your acquaintanceship or that of any mortal. What we are doing is a business transaction, nothing more. Don't be a fool."

Raleigh was quiet, grinding her teeth together while her cheeks blazed. She couldn't stand him. He was pompous and cold and smug and… Christ, the list was never ending. She loathed him and how ungrateful and impersonal he was. Of course she didn't want to be friends with him, but she did want to know who she was spending her time with or to have some sort of repertoire…was that such a crime?

She watched as he took a long drink from his pint and then, when he'd set the glass down, he looked around the pub, surveying the other patrons curiously. Her eyes followed his, landing on an attractive blonde woman at the bar before she lowered her gaze to the half empty pint and felt a spark of inspiration niggle at the back of her mind.

_Let him make a scene, _she thought, _I don't care._

Raleigh cleared her throat and Loki turned his attention back to her, raising his eyebrows.

"What?"

"You're right," she said, pushing her bottle towards the end of the table. "Of course, you're right. It was my mistake and I shouldn't have been so presumptuous…" A sly grin pulled at the corner of his mouth and Raleigh fancied the idea of slapping it off his face. "…We're not friends and we're never going to be friends or anything like that. It's best that we don't even try."

"That's better," said Loki. "I would hate for you to to misplace your affections."

Her stomach twisted violently at the inference. "I can assure you that my affections won't be misplaced," she replied, just managing to keep her voice even. "It's just business, after all."

"Precisely." He turned away again, his eyes seeking out the attractive woman at the bar again.

"I did want to tell you something though, if that's all right."

"Go on then, make it quick before the food arrives."

Raleigh pushed her chair back, seizing the pint from the tabletop as she went, and before Loki had time to react, she unceremoniously dumped it over his head. The cold beer drenched him and she leapt back from the table, seizing her bag and coat as he cried out and shook his head vigorously, flinging droplets everywhere. Their neighbouring tables had grown silent, turning to watch the scene unfold.

Feeling vindicated—and all too certain that she would pay for this—Raleigh met Loki's furious gaze with a steely resolve and said, "You're an asshole."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Cheers for the response, guys, it was much appreciated and as I said before, I hope to be back to regularly scheduled programming sometime soon.


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